


Breathless

by thelittlestpurplecat



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Bottom Steve, De-Serumed Steve, Eventual Smut, M/M, Pre-Established Relationship, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Steve's a mouthy little sub, Steves serum goes to crap, The Avengers all live together in Stark Tower, Top Bucky, and Bucky has to help him in the aftermath, post-winter soldier bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:18:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2690954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelittlestpurplecat/pseuds/thelittlestpurplecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's Serum is failing. He's suffering again from asthma, colorblindness, dizziness and heart trouble, problems he thought he'd left behind in the 40's. Tony and Bruce can see the problem, but not how to fix it, and Bucky is determined through all of this to do what's best for Steve, even if he's not always sure what that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first sign that something was seriously wrong came when Steve had an asthma attack on his morning run. That shouldn’t have been possible. The serum prevented anything of the sort. His body was in peak physical condition, and yet, Sam still pulled a gasping, choking Steve through the doors of Stark tower not ten minutes after they’d left.

Naturally, Steve brushed it off as a fluke, waving aside any other concerns. He’d dealt with asthma attacks before. He hadn’t allowed them to concern him when he was small and they concerned him even less now. Of all of the Avengers, Bucky was most reluctant to let the incident slide.

Since being brought back from Hydra and recovering his memories, Bucky had become quickly integrated into the team. He was skilled, and strong, and he got on well with the others, although it had taken him a long time to fully trust them. Sometimes, they still wondered if he really did. One thing was for certain though, he trusted Steve fully and completely.

Steve and Bucky never really made an official announcement to the rest of the team that they were together; it just kind of faded in naturally. Everyone knew that they would die for each other, that they loved each other, so it really wasn’t a huge surprise to find out that that love wasn’t necessarily platonic. Natasha never batted an eyelash when Steve would weave his fingers through Bucky’s as they sat at the kitchen table. When Bruce found them, asleep in each other’s arms on the couch, his only reaction was to turn down the tv so as not to disturb them, and to dim the lights in the living room. Clint’s reaction was by far the most dramatic who, upon accidentally walking in on Steve and Bucky making out against the kitchen wall, frowned momentarily, took a sip of his coffee, and passed a ten dollar bill to Tony, who’d entered behind him, smirking victoriously.

They were respected, and accepted by their friends and teammates. They couldn’t have been happier, but the recent incident had set Bucky’s nerves on edge. He was watching Steve closely now, paying attention to every little word. He wanted to make sure he didn’t miss something important. Steve started muttering about dizziness, and chest pains, although he’d always brush it off if someone else mentioned it. _Just complaining, just joking, forget I mentioned it._ But Bucky was wary now. Something was wrong with his boyfriend and he was gonna figure out what.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Hold still Buck, I’m almost done then y’can move."

Bucky waited patiently, lounging back on one of Stark’s large, cushy leather couches. He’d abandoned his shirt, dropping it over the arm of the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him. His limbs were tingling from holding still for so long, but it would be worth it. Steve’s drawing were gorgeous, and almost embarrassingly flatteringly. Steve also got extremely touchy about squirmy models. It was why he never even tried to draw Tony, he moved far too much.

Steve looked up, a faint smile tugging on his lips as he observed Bucky. He was the perfect subject. The ends of his washed, and neatly kept long hair feathered softly across his cheekbones, accenting the strength of his jaw and the flattering angles of his face. His gaze was fixed, focused, yet soft, in a wistful expression that started in his clear blue eyes and spread all the way to his slightly pouty red lips, and across the rest of his features. The overhead lamp spilled soft, white light over the lines of his muscular, tanned torso. His position was relaxed, but shifted just right to show of his body to its best advantage. He was gorgeous, and Steve had no idea how in the world he’d gotten so lucky to be able to call him his own.

"Okay," Steve murmured, scratching in the last few lines. He bent, blowing softly on the page to rid the parchment of the clingy bits of blackened eraser left behind from his mistakes. It had turned out beautifully. Steve shifted slightly from his position on the floor, his feet buzzing from having them tucked under himself for so long, but the angle had been much better from the floor. He studied the piece with a satisfied smile before glancing up quickly. "You can move now, I’ve got it."

Bucky’s lips drew up into a faint smirk as he moved with a sigh of relief. He shook his over-long hair out of his face, using his bionic arm to push himself up. “Can I see?” Bucky prompted, shifting easily onto the floor, moving forward, cat-like, and a little flirtatious. Bucky and Steve had watched the Titanic together a few weeks ago, and he felt personally offended that he’d missed so many good ‘ _draw me like one of your French girls’_ joke opportunities in the 40’s. He’d been making up for those lost chances as often as he could, knowing it about drove Steve up a wall.

Steve looked up, the skin surrounding his baby blue eyes crinkling as he found himself nose to nose with Bucky. He couldn’t believe that after everything they’d been through together, after sickness, war, torture, and death, they had ended up here; the twenty first century. Steve was strong, Bucky had healed from the trauma of Hydra. They were accepted by their teammates and they were together. It was almost hard to believe. And yet here they were.

Steve smirked at him, feeling the other man’s nose brush softly against his own as he moved closer still, trying to sneak a peak. The blond haired man ran his tongue thoughtfully over his teeth, waiting until Bucky was poised over his lap to pull the sketchbook against his chest. “I think I’m gonna color it first,” he said offhandedly, knowing how much Bucky wanted to see. His face split into a grin as he saw Bucky’s expression screw up with frustration.

"C’mon Stevie, fork it over, I posed on that couch for you for an entire fucking hour."

"And you looked just swell, but it’s not done yet." Steve teased, moving nimbly to his feet, leaving Bucky crouched on the floor, huffing with frustration. He strolled out of the living room, knowing Bucky would follow. The sound of his bare feet padding softly behind him confirmed his suspicions. "Gimme just a few minutes to block in a little color, and then you can see, I promise." He commented, walking through the wide open doorway into the kitchen and situating himself at the table.

Having his own apartment had been nice, but living in Stark tower was nicer. He and Bucky had their own private suite of rooms, just like all the other Avengers did. Common rooms in the tower were always open for use. Tony even made sure to keep a suite of rooms set aside for Thor should the Asguardian Prince ever decided to visit the planet again. As it was, the god was around very little, but seemed genuinely touched that they kept a place open for him at all times anyways.

In the common rooms like the large living room and kitchen, you found personal items lying around everywhere. Bits and pieces of Tony’s equipment lay scattered across the counters, most likely left over from an insomniac trip to the kitchen at four in the morning. Natasha’s hoodie was draped over the back of one of the kitchen chairs, its pockets concealing pepper sprays, poisons and other unknown substances that made it just safer to not touch. On the counter rested a helmet that Thor had left behind on his last visit. One of the delicately worked silver wings of the side was serving as a hook for a pancake turner and a number of other kitchen utensils. A nearly toppling stack of Bruce’s science textbooks was doing its best to prop up a laptop that Bucky had set against it, and Steve’s set of colored pencils lay on the table on top of a pile of his other drawings.

Steve sunk down at the kitchen table, coyly making certain that the sketchbook remained angled away from Bucky as he joined him. As Bucky seated himself beside him, he reached over, scooping up the cardboard sleeve. The pencils rattled inside the boxes, a sound familiar, and well loved by Steve. He loved that tools for all different mediums of art were available in the twenty first century, and he’d made a point to dabble in most of them. Still colored pencil remained his favorite. Smiling to himself, he shook the twenty or so pencils into his open palm. Steve froze. He blinked rapidly for a moment before looking up to check the light fixture hanging above them, and then squinted back down at the handful of colored pencils.

"Steve?" Bucky asked, frowning slightly at the look of confusion on his boyfriend’s face. "Y’okay Stevie?"

The blond haired man blinked again, harder this time, more purposefully as he stared down at the pencils. “Yeah…” He breathed slowly, a frown drawing his brows together. “I just…” He paused a moment, his expression growing almost alarmed. “Bucky I- I can’t see these colors right…” Steve said in a hushed tone.

He moved slowly, shifting the pencils in the light and staring at the colors that should seem so vibrant. They looked muted, dull, the colors muddling uncertainly. The more he stared, the more he realized that it wasn’t just the pencils. Everything seemed to have suddenly gone dim. Greens and reds became suddenly indistinguishable, and anything lighter than that had faded to a muddy gray or brown. A knot was beginning to form in Steve’s stomach as he turned a horrified stare to Bucky. His gaze snapped up, trying to catch sight of Bucky’s clear blue eyes. If he never saw color again, he wanted to seer the image of his beloved’s blue eyes into his memory so he could never forget, but it was too late. When their gazes locked, Bucky’s clear blue eyes had flattened out to gray orbs, dim, and colorless.

Steve felt his air leave him in a short gasp, a sick heaviness weighing on his stomach and chest. “Buck…” He breathed, swallowing hard. “I can’t see color…”

The dark hair man’s expression suddenly went dark with concern. “That’s it.” He said shortly, pulling himself to his feet, his chair skidding out across the floor behind him. The sound of the legs scraping on the titles rang loudly around the kitchen as Bucky reached out, seizing Steve’s upper arm in a metallic grip. His fingers curled tightly into the soft flesh, concerned, and commanding. “That’s it, something’s _really_ wrong with you Steve, you _need_ help.”

Steve paused uncertainly, almost brushing it off like he’d been doing for the past few days, but then it sunk in that Bucky was right. He couldn’t deny this any longer. The blond haired man licked his lips slowly, meeting Bucky’s gaze, his chest tightening as he observed his lover in dim, flat tones, rather than the rich bright colors he’d grown accustom too. Finally, he gave a jerk of a nod, standing up.

"You know how much I hate to give you the satisfaction of being right don’t’cha?" He asked, managing a little smirk, and Bucky’s frown deepened. His fingers tightened on Steve’s arm, half to insure that he remained steady, have to ground him to the seriousness of the situation.

"Quit it Steve." He said, his tone clipped, and serious, his mind sliding seamlessly into mission-mode. "You need help. Do you feel sick?"

"No," Steve protested, "bu-"

"Does anything hurt?" He pressed.

"No! Well-" Steve exhaled deeply, dropping his head. Bucky was challenging to deal with when he got like this. Steve knew it was a throw back to when having a mission was the only way Bucky knew how to function. He’d gotten better now, he’d relaxed, become more of the man Steve had known in the 40’s, but when things got stressful, he still reverted back to old behavior. It was best to just give him the answers he was looking for.

"My chest." Steve continued, rubbing his brow and blinking hard. "My chest hurts. Feels like there’s a weight sitting on my ribcage, just over my heart, been there for days."

Bucky pursed his lips, his expression twisting with agitation and concern. “You didn’t tell me?” He asked sharply, guiding Steve from the room, pulling him along by the upper arm.

"It wasn’t a big deal," Steve pressed, moving quickly by his side to avoid stumbling. "I thought it was gonna go away on its own. I didn’t think it was really worth mentioning.

Bucky didn’t respond to his, merely huffing in frustration. As he drug him out the door Steve could have sworn he heard him muttering something about his stupid punk ass boyfriend who thought he could take on the world bare-knuckled.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Tony and Bruce stepped into the case immediately, although Tony did call in a doctor to see to the more medical side of the investigation into Steve’s condition. Scientifically, Bruce was the main driving force behind the study. The Captain America serum was similar to what Bruce himself had eventually been given, although it had gone terribly wrong. That being said, Doctor Banner had done plenty of studying in that field, and knew exactly what he was looking at.

Steve sat on the examination table that Tony had set up in Bruce’s lab in Stark Tower. The metal was cool beneath his palms, and the air conditioning was turned just high enough to send a chill up his spine. Or...maybe it was just him. He’d been feeling cold more and more frequently. It was possible that it was a side-affect of whatever was happening to him. His eyes were fixed on his two teammates, bent over screens and papers, reading over information and data. Seeing the world in nearly black and white was troubling, but not unfamiliar. Steve had been colorblind since the day he was born, all the way up until he’d been given the serum. He’d also been asthmatic. He’d also struggled with dizziness and chest pains. Steve was becoming aware of a disturbing pattern.

Bruce slipped his glasses off, holding them lightly between his fingers as he rubbed the bridge if his nose. His touch was always so delicate, so precise, like he knew the damage he was capable of if he lost control, and so was as gentle as possibly while control remained his. “Steve,” he started, turning to face the blond haired man. “To be completely honest, I have no idea what’s going on here.” He said, gesturing vaguely to the readouts behind him.

Steve could see some program of Tony’s deconstructing and reconstructing a digital model of his enhanced DNA. It seemed to be testing different questions and solutions, but every few seconds, a red X would flash in the corner of the screen and the sequence would begin again. Whatever it was testing, it was coming up with an empty slate. Steve considered Bruce’s statement, his brow pulling into a frown of concern.

"So…you can’t tell what’s happening to me. At all." He pressed, looking up to meet the doctor’s gaze. Bucky’s agitation and worry was beginning to infect him, and he stirred restlessly, his fingers drumming together in his lap.

Bruce replaced his glasses, his finger carding absently through his soft brown curls. “No, I can tell what’s happening to you, just not why it’s happening…or how to stop it.”

His teammate’s words sent an unexpected shock of fear through Steve’s chest, and his heart rate elevated, pounding loudly in his ears. People assumed Steve was fearless, but they were wrong. Steve was often afraid, he just didn’t deal with it the same way other people did. When they were afraid, they had two options: fight or flight. Steve only had one. He couldn’t run away, that simply wasn’t in him. If something scared Steve, he would fight it. But now that wasn’t an option. The thing that scared him most right now was this unknown thing lurking inside him, and it was something he didn’t know how to combat. He was defenseless.

It was Bucky who finally broke the silence. Until now he’d been quietly standing in the corner, head lowered, ears in tuned to the conversation. Now, he lifted his head, shaking his over long brown hair out of his steely, focused eyes. “What is it Bruce?” He asked in a soft, but unmistakably demanding tone. “What’s happening to him?”

Bruce inhaled slowly, shuffling a few papers into his hands. He leafed softly through them, as through checking for something he may have missed before. Bruce met Steve’s searching gaze with a look of helplessness. “It’s the serum,” he started. “It’s…failing.”

"Failing?" Steve blurted, alarmed and on edge. He knew he shouldn’t be interrupting his friend, especially not when he had information regarding his condition, but he couldn’t help himself. It seemed too unlikely, borderline ridiculous.

"Yep," Tony cut in, his fingers moving quickly over various touch screens, adjusting the programs that were running Steve’s DNA. "Long story short, your super juice is going to crap and we’ve got nothing on how to stop it. Good news is it doesn’t look like you’ll be aging 800 years."

"72-"

"Whatever. It just looks like you’re loosing your benefit package really quick here cap." He finished, turning to look him in the eye and, despite he quips and teasing comments, Tony looked genuinely distressed. He was so intelligent, and though there were times when Steve couldn’t stand him, he could see that Tony was truly upset that he couldn’t seem to help him.

Steve drew in a steadying breath. “You mean…I’m going to go back to being 5.4”, ninety-six pounds? Asthmatic?…colorblind?” He asked, his tone unreadable.

Tony pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment before giving a quick nod. “Yep. That’s about the long and short of it.” He glanced up, catching Bucky’s gaze. “Hey, RoboCop, I need a blood sample. If you’re souped up on the same crock of glue Capcicle here is, were gonna need to get you checked out too.”

Bucky’s brow twitched with annoyance. For one thing, Tony was difficult to handle. Bucky had grown to respect his genius, and trust his wild hunches, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t frustrated by him at some points, particularly when about 90% of what he said sounded like utter nonsense. Secondly, Bucky wanted all resources focused on Steve. Steve was the one who was in trouble here, _not_ him. If there was something wrong, even _seriously_ wrong, with his serum, it could wait.

"Take care of Steve first." He said shortly, still in mission-mode.

Steve scoffed aloud and Bucky turning to him with a frown. “C’mon Buck, a blood sample can’t hurt.” He slid off the examination table, dropping lightly to the floor. “Tony’s programs are running all of Bruce’s data, they’re gonna come up with something.” Steve assured him. He reached out to gripping his shoulder, pulling him close. The gesture was familiar, and comforting.

Bucky closed his eyes, reluctantly leaning forward into the touch. He rested his forehead against Steve’s, allowing himself a moment to enjoy the warmth of the contact, to breath in Steve’s comforting scent. His lover smelled of parchment, and apples, just like he always had, even from the time he was small. He never tired of that smell. It reminded him of when they were boys, playing around in the dirty streets of Brooklyn as kings, heroes, knights in shining armor who were going to save the world together. They’d been so young, and naive. They had no idea what was coming for them at the time, just that they loved each other. Even as boys they’d known that, not necessarily how they loved each other, or how long and far that love would take them, but they’d known it anyways. Bucky never tired of Steve affections, ever. He could drown in his love and he wouldn’t care. They’d spent too long apart, and he had him now. Bucky wasn’t ever letting him go.

“Let’um take the blood sample, I promise it’s not gonna be a distraction…” He murmured, knowing what Bucky was really concerned about before he even had to say it. He allowed his eyes to flutter closed, his nose brushing softly against his boyfriend’s. Bucky’s breath was hot on Steve’s lips, and the blond haired man felt an almost imperceptible shift in his companion’s attitude. At his gently reassurance, Bucky slipped out of mission-mode, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"Fine, have it your way. They can have the blood sample, just sid’down before you hurt yourself punk." He smirked, grabbing Steve’s jaw gently and shoving his face away.

A relieved smile tugged at Steve’s lips as he felt Bucky shove him gently, and he stepped back away. Even though he wished he could have stayed there longer, nuzzling Bucky gently, feeling the warmth of his forehead on his own, he knew Bruce would need space to work. He sunk down on the examination table once more, watching Bucky roll back his right sleeve for Bruce. He was glad Bucky had relaxed again. His mission mind-set concerned Steve. He became too much like how he’d been after what Hydra had done to him, before he’d remembered everything. Closed, cold, and suspicious. Steve hated to see him like that, but he understood that it was a part of who Bucky was now. Still, it was good to see him smile, and tease. Steve loved that more than anything.

While Bruce explained to Bucky a bit of how the DNA analysis program worked, Steve slipped once more off of the examination table. The news that his serum was…well, misfiring, had set him on edge, and though Bucky wanted him to rest, sitting still was impossible. He took to pacing the lab absently. Tony caught his gaze with a sympathetic smirk. He was well aquatinted with anxiousness, and restlessness, and it was easy for him to spot in others. He also knew it was kinder no to mention it, so he turned back to his work, and let Steve pace.

Through the examination, nerves had caused his mouth to go dry, and Steve paced restlessly over to where a pitcher of water had been set on one of the counters. Bruce had brought it in because Tony had a bad habit of spending hours, sometimes days, analyzing data without taking care of himself. Sleep and food rarely happened during these times but if he were hydrated, at least he’d survive.

Steve’s hands were shaking as he pulled a plastic cup off the counter, filling it with the room temperature water. He paused, trying to steady his breathing as he watched the contents of the cup jump and tremble in his shaking hands. Steve was anxious, but this was ridiculous. He was a little scared yes, but his hands shouldn’t be shaking this badly by any means.

Suddenly his vision blurred. The world, recently striped of its color, suddenly blurred, smudging and bleeding together as numbness spread rapidly from his spine to his fingertips. The cup dropped like a stone, bouncing off the tiles, it’s contents sloshing over the floor. His lips were numb, and although Bucky’s name was forming in his mind he couldn’t seem to push it past his throat. His vision tunneled. Steve stumbled away from the counter, managing two steps before crashing to the ground. His surrounding seemed to slow as Steve’s legs collapsed out from under him, and though he tried to force himself to move, his body had gone numb. Steve was helpless as he dropped towards the hard tile floor. His mind was already fading when he struck the tiles, and he was only vaguely aware of shouting voices, and familiar hands rolling him onto his back. Bucky’s urgent voice seemed slow, and distorted as he spoke, the words scrambling to nonsense before they reached Steve’s mind. His hand twitched limply by his side. He wanted to reach up, touch his lover’s face, and murmur thickly that he’d be fine, but his body wouldn’t obey him. He could see Bucky perched over him, leaning down with a look of alarm etched on his beautiful features. And then his narrow tunnel of vision constricted, and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve didn’t wake for nearly a week. Within minutes of collapsing on the lab floor, Bucky had scooped him up in his arms, carrying him bridal style to the nearest bedroom. He’d held Steve protectively against his chest, snapping viciously when Tony tried to stabilize him. Tony had only been trying to help, but the moment Steve collapsed, Bucky had slipped back into mission-mode. Steve was once again his mission, only this time, it wasn’t to kill him, but to insure that not more damage was inflicted.

His mind turned dark, and suspicious, and people he’d considered to be close friends minutes ago, were now threats, and variables. Bucky’s top and _only_ priority was Steve. The others were fine so long as they stayed away. If he trusted no one else to be near him, he trusted himself. He _would_ take care of Steve, and he _would_ protect him from anything, even the people he had grown to trust.

Over the first two days no one was allowed near the room where Steve lay. Bucky stayed by his side constantly. Without his lover’s words of gentle reassurance, Bucky remained cold, and withdraw for much longer than Steve would normally allow. But then again, Steve was the only one who could really talk Bucky down from slipping into mission-mode. The other Avengers simply didn’t know how.

As he stayed by his side, Bucky watched Steve grown rapidly more emaciated. Over two days he’d lost an alarming amount of weight. His cheeks looked gaunt, and sunken. His lips were dry and cracked and his collarbones stood out _much_ too far. Bucky could see his ribs protruding from his concaved stomach even through the material of his shirt, his hipbones jutting out under his paper-thin flesh. Steve looked as though food hadn’t touched his lips in months. He was wasting away, his body eating away at his muscle, desperate for nutrients. He looked like he was dying, and it terrified Bucky.

It was because of this fear that he guardedly let Natasha into the room on the third day. Of all the other Avengers, Bucky trusted her most. She kept her movements controlled, and delicate, knowing that, in the mind-set Bucky was in, he very well may try to hurt her or throw her out for so much as looking at Steve the wrong way. She couldn’t get Bucky out of his mission-mode, but she understood it, perhaps even more than Steve did. She knew she had to appeal to the mission itself: to help Steve.

She spoke to Bucky softly, seriously, keeping a reassuring distance between herself and where the blond hair man lay. Natasha laid out the facts, cold and hard. Facts appealed to Bucky in his mind-set, they were unbiased and stable. Natasha knew this, and she used it to get what she wanted, and what both men _needed_. If no one else, Bruce needed to be allowed in. He knew the most about Steve’s condition and with the obvious developments he may be able to dig up new information that could be vital to Steve’s survival. Bucky agreed, and with the most pressing task out of the way, Natasha turned her skill-set to trying to talk Bucky into having a proper meal.

Bucky let Bruce in to see Steve later in the day. He was still wary, although he felt his panic-driven steeliness being to slip away. There was nothing malicious about Bruce, and everything he did was to help. Bucky began to let to of his rigid countenance. He apologized to his friends and teammates, and allowed himself to eat and sleep. Bucky still felt a surge of protectiveness and suspicion if he came into Steve’s room to find one of the others already there, checking on him, but he tried to not let it get out of hand again. In return, the others, save for Bruce, gave Steve’s room a wide berth.

The third day started the worst of the process, and it was almost more than Bucky could stand. Bruce knew quite a lot about what has to happen for something large to have to change back into a smaller form. He knew firsthand what it was like to feel every bone in your body snap and reform, fusing together with acute stabs of white-hot agony. Seeing it from the outside was almost as painful.

Steve’s emaciated body twisted and writhed on the bed, his back arching sharply as a scream tore from his throat. Bucky had gone white as he sheet, mechanically murmuring words of comfort as he pinned Steve down, trying to keep him from hurting himself more. He could feel bones snapping and crunching under his palms, Steve’s tormented screams reverberating around the room. The process was not quick. Hours passed, and there seemed to be no relief. Occasionally, the waves of agony would ebb for a short while, and Steve would lie on the bed, gasping and shaking, his body looking oddly disfigured and misshapen. For a few, brief minutes, his ravaged, twisted body was allowed rest, and then something would snap inside him, and the torture would begin again.

The evening faded seamlessly into night, and Steve’s agonized screams echoed through every room and hallway of Stark Tower. Only Clint, who had the advantage of being able to take out his hearing aids, got any sleep that night. Come morning, Bucky had collapsed of sheer exhaustion, slumped against the sweat soaked mattress beside Steve’s now small, fragile frame. The process had come to a grinding halt somewhere around four in the morning, when the last bones in Steve’s ravaged body had snapped and re-formed, leaving him weak, and drained.

For the next three days, Steve slept off the trauma of the serum reversal. Bucky spent hours sitting beside him, waiting for him to wake, staring down at the body of the slender, scrawny young man he’d fallen in love with. He was scared for Steve; he was scared for what this process would do to him. But a very selfish part of Bucky that he kept deeply buried was glad to see the old Steve. It touched parts of his mind and heart that Steve, with all his strength, couldn’t. Seeing him like this turned up the feeling attached to his memories, feelings of curling up in narrow beds together, Steve’s too sharp elbows digging into his ribs. It brought up memories of hopeless fights, playground scrabbled, and cold winter nights with only each other for warmth. It was selfish, he knew, but Bucky had missed little Steve.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Waking felt strange, and unnatural. It was partially because he’d grown accustom to seeing bright morning colors when he opened his eyes rather than flat grays and muddles browns. It was also likely that it was because he didn’t feel like he was in his own body. Steve had become used to carrying a certain weight, taking up a certain amount of space on his bed. This was not right. Something had changed.

Steve blinked slowly, rolling over with a wince. There was a dull ache all through his body, spreading deep into his bones. He inhaled slowly, bracing himself for the throbbing pain and finishing the turn, shifting all the way onto his other side and coming face to face with Bucky. He blinked, not sure why he’d felt surprised. He and Bucky had been sharing a room, sharing a bed, since shortly after Bucky had been brought home. _Of_ _course_ Bucky would be sleeping beside him, why wouldn’t h-…oh…that’s right, he’d passed out on the lab floor, no wonder he hadn’t expected Bucky to be lying next to him.

"Hey," he rasped softly. His voice box ached. If he hadn’t been unconscious this whole time he would have thought he’d been screaming. "Hey, Buck…wake up…"

Bucky shifted a little in his sleep, squeezing his eyes tighter closed for a moment before opening them. He blinked, uncomprehending for a moment before his expression lit with relief. “Steve,” he managed, struggling into a siting position.

Steve managed a weak little smile. “C’mon lazybones, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were the one who’d passed out.”

Bucky gave a relieved laugh. “You’re awake…” He whispered under his breath, before shifting over him, his hand sliding down to grip the side of his scrawny neck. “You’re awake.” He repeated, the words directed clearly at Steve this time. “Y’know how long you were out ya little punk?”

"Surprise me," Steve replied dryly.

"Six days."

Steve startled, moving to sit up, but the dull ache flushed through his body and he eased himself back down. “Six days?” He pressed, staring up at Bucky, who kept staring at him, or, more so than normal. “I was out for six _days_?”

"Your body had a lot’a chang’n to do in six days. It couldn’t do all that and still keep ya awake now could it?"

Steve lay back on his pillows; feeling like he was sinking into his bedding, like there was too much of it in relation to his body and it was swallowing him whole. “Do I wanna know?” He asked, meeting Bucky’s gaze.

"You’d better, c’mere." Bucky reached down, sliding an arm around Steve’s ribs, his other hand moving to the small of his back. Bucky’s hands seemed impossibly large on his body, he felt…dwarfed; not a feeling he’d been accustomed to in he last few years. Bucky eased Steve into a sitting position, waiting until he’d caught his breath before moving him any more. Steve steadied his breathing, biting back the pain in his bones as Bucky helped him to his feet.

He knew what he was going to see before he reached the mirror. His body felt too light, too narrow. His shoulder rested well below Bucky’s armpit, even with the other man’s arm holding most of his weight up. Still when Steve stepped in front of the mirror, he couldn’t help but be a bit taken aback.

He looked exactly as he had the day Erskine had given him the serum, although perhaps a little more haggard. He stood about five foot four, Bucky once again towering over him, just like when they’d been young. He was thin, dangerously so. Steve got the feeling he hadn’t been this thin even before the serum. The reversal must have taken a lot out of him. Steve could feel the curve in his spine, the scoliosis that had plagued him since he was a child. His vision was weaker now and all but completely devoid of color, and the weight in his chest that he’d spoken of almost a week before had only gotten worse. He’d forgotten what it was like to have every breath be a challenge. He’d forgotten that no matter how deeply he inhaled, he’d never felt like he had enough oxygen. Steve remembered now. He remembered all of it.

"You okay there pal?" Bucky asked, something about his reverted appearance inspiring the use of the childhood nickname. It seemed ridiculous almost; they were lovers, a couple for god sake! He shouldn’t be calling him pal, and yet, it seemed almost comforting.

Steve tore his gaze away from the mirror, turning to face Bucky, his boney shoulders squared. He lifted his chin, looking up with determination stubbornly lining his face. “I’m fine Buck. Help me outta here, I’m sick of lying in bed. I’ve got a lot of things to relearn and I’m not gonna get that done by loafing around.”

An affectionate smile tugged at Bucky’s lips, and he snagged the front of Steve’s over large T-shirt. “Fine tough-guy,” he said, pulling him close. “But I’ve been about outta my freaking head with worry for six days, so gimme two minutes to love on ya a bit.”

Steve, despite the pain, and the weight in his chest, and the constant struggle for air, managed a small smile. He allowed himself to be pulled in, resting his weight against Bucky’s sturdy body. He felt firm, and consistent, unmovable. He slowly wrapped his skinny arms around Bucky’s waist, lacing his fingers together over the small of his back.

Bucky moved a hand up Steve’s skinny neck, tipping his face up as he leaned down to meet him. He pressed his mouth gently to Steve’s capturing his spilt, chapped lips in a tender kiss. All he wanted was what was best for Steve, so he tried not to let himself dwell too much on how nice it felt to lean down to kiss him.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

After a few minutes, Bucky wrapped an arm around Steve’s fragile ribcage and helped him out of the bedroom. The poor guy was sore through, from his skin to deep in his bones, everything hurt. Still Steve was a scrappy little punk and Bucky knew it’d only be a few hours before he was insisting on walking on his own again. But for now, he allowed Bucky to help him, supporting his weight as they entered the kitchen together.

When the two of them stepped through the door, they were greeted by an uncertain silence. The other members of the team, as well as Sam, were all sitting around the kitchen, their conversation dying out at the two men entered. Everyone was glad to see Steve conscious, and on his feet, but no one knew quite what to say. No one, not even Bucky, really knew how Steve was handling this yet. They didn’t know if they needed to be solemn, or if they needed to joke, if joking would upset Steve, or if he would find their seriousness unnecessary. It was Natasha who finally broke the silence.

"Eggs?" She asked, the comment directed as Steve as she scooped a spatula full onto a plate, offering it in his direction with raised eyebrows.

"Please," Steve responded breathlessly, wincing as Bucky eased him into one of the kitchen chairs. "I’m starving."

"No wonder," Tony snorted, studying his teammate who was now swimming in his over large clothing. It hadn’t even been worth borrowing clothes from any of the other Avengers, none of them would have fit. Even Bruce, who was a little slighter than Tony, Bucky, or Clint wouldn’t have had anything suitable for Steve’s tiny frame. Tony smirked at the sight before continuing. "You lost over 100 pounds in three days. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re standing, although I know some people who would kill for a diet like that."

Steve gave a little snort of laughter, quickly swallowing his mouthful so he didn’t gag. At the sound, some of the carful tension eased from the room and they allowed themselves a little less caution. Naturally it would have been Tony who broke the ice.

Once he was certain that Steve was getting some food into his stomach, Bucky moved over behind him. He absently carded his fingers through his blond hair; playing with the soft golden sheaves as his boyfriend got some much needed nutrition. He wolfed down the eggs, looking like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. It probably felt that way too. In the past few days, Steve’s body had burnt so much energy in the process that he could use all the protein he could get.

"Ah it’s not so impressive," Bucky smirked, pressing a light kiss to Steve’s temple. "I lost 12 pounds in a couple of seconds once."

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked, meeting Bucky’s gaze with a easy grin. "How’d’ya manage that?"

"Someone went and cut off my arm."

Steve choked on his eggs, doubling over for a second. His knobby, boney fingers curled into a fist, and he pounded just between the gap of his narrow ribcage. He gave a nasty cough, his free hand digging into the edge of the table in a white knuckled grip.

"Whoa, careful Stevie. Didn’t mean to make you choke." Bucky said, gripping his shoulder, a look of guilt touching his features.

Steve waved a hand, wordless for a moment as he gave another deep cough. He swallowed back a third, blinking rapidly, moisture stinging his eyes. “M’fine.” He choked, swallowing hard and clearing his throat. “M’fine. He’d almost forgotten how hard little things had been before. He’d never thought about eating slowly so that his delicate stomach could process everything without getting indigestion before he was given the serum. Now that’d he’d had the benefits of the serum stripped away from him, these little things had come crashing back as a rude reminder.

Steve swallowed hard once more, before wiping at his eyes and turning to Bucky. “C’mon Buck, you should know better then to make me laugh while I’m eating.” He teased.

"Well excuse me for not remembering the details. Don’t forget that two years ago I was a blank slate and I was trying to put your ass in the ground."

A little snicker escaped Steve’s chapped lips. He and Bucky had gotten to the point where they were comfortable fucking around with each other about things that would have drawn a somber silence a year ago. Occasionally the jokes got pushed too far, and one or the other would quietly apologize, pressing a soft kiss to their lover’s lips. These occurrences grew less and less frequent though as both Steve and Bucky relearned about their partner’s boundaries. Very little could actually upset them now, although Steve still tread lightly around the subject of Hydra. Bucky was allowed to joke about it, but no one else.

"You’re right," Steve relented, pouring himself a mug of coffee from the pot siting in front of Clint and downing it. The gnawing hunger deep in the pit of his concaved stomach had yet to subside. "Nat? Are there any eggs left."

Natasha smirked, grabbing a hot mitt and pulling the pan off the stove. She strolled over and casually scraped the healthy amount of leftovers onto Steve’s plate. “Better eat ‘em before they go cold.” She suggested, picking a stray piece of scrambled egg out of he pan and popping it in her mouth.

"Thanks," Steve breathed distractedly, already digging in to the food again.

Clint watched from across the kitchen table as Steve put away two plates of eggs and a few thick slices of toast. “Uh, Cap…you do realize you probably shouldn’t eat the same amount you’ve been used to yeah?” He pressed, eyeing him with a look of concern, mingled with an odd admiration. Steve barely broke stride to answer him.

"I could eat a horse." Steve mumbled around his food. Usually, Steve tried to maintain good table manners; god knows sometimes he thought he was the only one in the tower who did, but not today. Today, he was so hungry he really could care less.

"You’re gonna give yourself a stomachache," Sam added, raising his eyebrows, his full lips pursed to suppress a smile.

"I’ve been to war," Steve started, shoveling in another mouthful. "Survived 70 years in the ice, and an alien attack on New York, I think I can handle a plate or two of eggs."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

No one laid any bets because _everyone_ knew Sam was right. Within ten minutes of finishing two plates of eggs and three thick slices of toast, Steve lost it. He stumbled to the sink, gagging as he threw up what seemed to be about half his body weight. He clutched the edge of the sink, groaning, and shaking, the acidic taste of vomit in his mouth.

Bucky found himself supporting his boyfriend’s weight once more, holding him up as he got him clean. After helping Steve down a short glass of water, Bucky hauled him off to bed. Steve was tough, but he needed his rest. His body was still traumatized; he still needed to take it slow until he fully recovered. Bucky laid Steve down on the bed, covering him up and making him promise to try and rest. His lover had rewarded him was a sleepy snicker, muttering some thing about him being a mother hen before shifting deeper into his covers.

Bucky closed Steve’s door softly behind him, lingering for a moment, listening for any unwarranted movement behind the door. When he was satisfied that Steve really was settled, he stepped away, allowing his fingers to slide from the door knob. As Bucky turned, he froze, blinking in surprise. Sam stood by the entrance to the hallway, arms folded across his chest, a small frown tugging at his brow.

"Sam," Bucky started uncertainly, closing the distance between them until he was standing a few feet from the other man.

Sam’s tongue slid out, wetting his lips as he tipped his chin in the direction if Steve’s room. “You know it’s just a coping method right?” He asked, cutting the pleasantries. If Bucky didn’t know already, he had to make sure he understood. As Steve boyfriend, as the closest person in the world to him, he _had_ to know.

Bucky frowned slightly, not 100% certain he was following Sam’s line of thinking. “What is?” He asked, allowing himself the obvious question.

“The jokes, the offhandedly comments. It’s his coping method.” Sam clarified, uncrossing his arms and pushing away from the wall in one smooth movement. “He’s not okay Bucky, he’s reeling. He’s in shock and he doesn’t want the others to know.” He let the statement hang, watching Bucky’s expressions. Bucky was a traumatized soldier as much as Steve was, as much as _he_ was. They understood each other. They thought in the same ways.

Bucky drew in a deep breath, lowering his eyes, trusting enough to be off guard around Sam, a privilege few people had. “I know.” He responded softly. “Punk’s always done that…smiled when he was sad…used’ta drive me crazy…what am I supposed to do for him though?” Part of the question was rhetorical, but a part of Bucky was also very earnest. Sam worked with soldiers; he helped people who struggled with PSTD. He helped people work through the loss of a loved one, the loss of a friend, even the loss of a limb. He was smart, and compassionate. He knew what to do, and what _not_ to do.

Sam pursed his lips, considering the question for a moment before reaching out, gently gripping Bucky’s shoulder. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “I don’t know what you can do to fix this, but neither does anyone else…just…make sure he knows you love him.” He said, as Bucky met his gaze with a wane smile. “Big or small,” Sam added with an encouraging smirk.

Bucky snorted softly, wordlessly giving Sam’s forearm a gentle squeeze with his bionic fingers before pulling away. He slipped down the hallway, moving towards one of the large glass doors that lead out onto one of the many balconies on the side of Stark Tower. After a morning like that, he needed some fresh air.


	3. Chapter 3

Bucky found himself staring at Steve constantly. He tried not too, but every time he caught a glimpse of him doing even the most mundane task, it stirred up warm, happy memories of their shared childhood. Bucky hadn’t thought he could have ever remembered memories as clearly and vividly as this. Since hydra, he’d remembered most everything, but in 2D. It never felt completely real to him. These memories did, and Bucky would be happy to drown in the sensation.

Now, he watched Steve as he pieced through racks of clothing. They were at a small boutique just down the street from Stark Tower. It was a cute little place, with white tiles and neat sliver racks with clothing that never seemed dated. Bucky was glad for this, because he could help but think that Steve would look hot as fuck in hipster fashion. As of right now, Steve was wearing a pair if Natasha’s skinny jeans, cinched tightly around his narrow, boney hips. One of Bucky’s smaller T-shirt’s hung off of his tiny frame, the shirt almost laughable too large. Still, Steve had insisted that if he was going to wear an over large shirt, it may as well be Bucky’s. His shoes were about the only thing that fit, and that was only because they too were Natasha’s. He’d borrowed the pair of black Convers style shoes, promising to return them when he bought a pair of his own that would fit him.

The two of them had spent most of the day out, going from store to store. Early in the day, they’d gotten Steve a doctor’s appointment to see what could be done about some of the nuisances that couldn’t have been prevented in the 40’s but now were quite treatable. They’d been written up a prescription for a quality inhaler, which they picked up a few hours later at the drug store. The doctor also said that they would schedule an appointment to do a little more investigating into the nature of Steve’s heart trouble.

Now Steve was working his way through the clothing racks in the boutique, loading Bucky’s arms with piles of men’s extra smalls, and Bucky was staring again. His attention had been caught by Steve’s expression, which had settled from its usual placid smile, to a resting look of discomfort. Sam was right, there was a lot more going on in Steve’s head than he was letting on, and the joking and teasing was wearing him thin.

"Okay," Bucky said shortly. "Spit it out, talk to me about what’s bugging you."

Steve faltered, glancing up from the two shirts in his thin hands. “Hm?” He hummed, meeting Bucky’s gaze. “Oh. I don’t know that either of these are really going to match with anything else. This is green right?” He asked, lifting the one hanger slightly higher than the other.

"It’s red." Bucky corrected absently, piecing through the mound of clothing Steve had draped over his arm. "And it’ll match okay with these dark jeans. Probably look pretty nice actually, but you know that’s not what I meant."

"I thought that getting me an inhaler and something to wear that’s not six or eight times too big was our whole mission today."

"It is, but with the way you’re making excuses and blatting on, it’s obvious that it doesn’t effect your mouth all that much, so spill."

Steve fell silent, huffing a soft sigh as he laid the red shirt over the top of Bucky’s pile. A frown had pulled at his brow, and the look of dissatisfaction was back. It killed Bucky to see him like this. Even on the worst day, seeing Steve’s smile could warm Bucky through, but when it wasn’t genuine, when he was using it to hide his pain, it was like getting pierced through the chest with a rusty spike. Maybe the other couldn’t see it, maybe they thought he was alright, but he knew Steve, and he’d been pulling this crap since long before he was Captain America. He’s covered his hurt with a smile since he’d been a little boy, and Bucky had learned to tell the difference. Bucky shifted all the clothing into one arm, reaching out to grip the side of Steve’s neck. His skin was warm to the touch, and Bucky drew the slender, boney man closer.

"Talk to me." He pressed, "keepin’ all this stuffed down is gonna kill ya."

Steve looked up, meeting Bucky’s earnest stare. He could see right through him, Steve knew, but that didn’t mean he was ready to talk. He reached up, smirking as he planted a hand in the middle of Bucky’s broad chest, pushing him back. “Bucky, I’m fine. Honestly. I’ve managed all this before, I can do it again.” Bucky opened his mouth to speak, but Steve pulled away from him. “C’mon, let get this stuff paid for.”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

He could see the curve in his spine. In the transition of trying on another one of the new shirts, Steve had gotten distracted. Standing in front of the mirror, he could see all of his sender body. Turning to look over his shoulder, he could see the twist at the base of his spine that irregulated his walk, and caused him pain if he was on his feet for too long.

Bucky sat cross-legged on the bed, his chest tightening as he watched his lover grow distracted by the imperfections of his body. For as often as Bucky caught himself staring a Steve, he knew Steve was staring at himself just as much, but they were seeing _very_ different pictures. Bucky was seeing the beautiful, slender Steve he’d fallen in love with as a boy. He was seeing the soft, ivory white skin, and narrow shoulders he’d pined over, too afraid of his feeling to tell him the truth.

Steve was seeing a lost opportunity. He’d been able to do so much good, so many things he couldn’t have dreamed of doing as a sickly child. With the body Erskine had given him, he’d been able to protect people, save people, and now, he was back to step one. His only hope of protecting someone now was launching himself into a fight he had no hope of winning and letting them slip away. He had no other options open to him. It was work in the factory while Bucky went to war all over again.

Bucky drew in an uncertain breath as he watched Steve’s face grow pained. He was so gorgeous. He was so incredible, serum or not, how could he not know that? Bucky swallowed, forcing his tone to be light as he tipped his head in Steve’s direction. “Jeans look nice.” He commented, smirking at him. “They make your little ass look cute.”

Steve forced a little smile. Not even. The corners of his mouth lifted, but other than that it bore no resemblance to an expression of happiness. “Thanks Buck…” He murmured, so tired of faking it that he couldn’t even try anymore. He’d been on his feet and moving around for almost a week. He’d been smiling, and laughing, and poking fun at his new physique for days when all he wanted to do was cry. But the others couldn’t know. He had to just square his shoulders and soldier on through this, just as he always had.

Bucky’s forced smirk dropped guiltily, and everything in him wanted to rewind the world and swallow those words back. He _loved_ how Steve looked, but he was suffering from severe body image issues right now, and though the comment was meant to help, it seemed to have done more harm than good. That was the last thing he wanted. He wanted Steve to feel beautiful, and loved. He wanted Steve to love his body. He wanted him to love himself the way Bucky loved him. Slowly, Bucky drew in a deep breath, a frown tugging at his brow as he scooted back to make room on the bed. “C’mere…” He murmured softly, waiting for Steve to join him on the soft mattress.

Steve’s gaze was still rooted on the mirror. His left hand twisted around behind his back, pale fingers tracing over the curve in his spine. He could feel the notches in his backbone through his paper-thin skin. Steve had been gaining a _little_ weight after the trauma of the serum reversal, but he was still thin as a rail. Every rib was visible, and his hipbones jutted out just above the waistband of his new jeans. He looked frail, and sickly. Steve stared at his reflection, studying his sunken cheeks and anemic complexion. His hands moved up, brushing over his bloodless lips, sliding down to trace softly over his prominent collarbones, feeling the distinct dip between his collarbone and his breastbone. His bones felt too sharp under his skin, like they were going to piece through his uninsulated, paper-thin flesh. He hated it, hated feeling like he was going to break.

Bucky frowned slightly; a little distressed that Steve was ignoring him. Then, little missing memories slid back into place, and his expression went soft with understanding. Steve was back to being exactly the way he was before the serum. He had all of his original maladies and disabilities, which meant his was once again partially deaf. Bucky allowed himself a sympathetic smile. He’d have to remember to keep his voice raised from now on.

"Steve." He said, loud enough that his boyfriend could hear. This time, Steve responded, turning to face him, quickly hiding his melancholy expression that had lingers so softly on his features. Bucky scooted back to the head of the bed, resting his back against the dark wood headboard and gestured him over. "C’mere." He repeated, tipping his chin down slightly in a welcoming gesture.

Steve exhaled softly, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, as he walked over to the edge of he bed. He stood in front of Bucky, his head tipping to the side. Even standing, and with Bucky sitting, slumped in front of him, they were still eye level. He was going to have to get used to that. He was going to have to accept the fact that he wouldn’t be able to come up behind Bucky and rest his chin on the top of his head. Not anymore. “What?” He asked, his tone edged with exhaustion. They’d been out all morning, and Steve had forgotten for easily this body grew fatigued.

Bucky studied him for a moment, biting his lip thoughtfully. He didn’t answer him. Instead, he leaned forward, wrapping an arm firmly around Steve’s slender hips and pulling him forward.

Steve smirked faintly, moving obediently as he closed the distance between himself and the edge of the bed. When Steve’s hips pressed against the edge of the mattress, Bucky’s hold tightened. He startled, a little surprised when, in one swift movement, Bucky drew Steve overtop of him, handling his fragile body gently. One hand cradled Steve’s neck, supporting his head as he rolled him overtop of him and onto the mattress on the other side, curling his body around Steve’s slender frame. Steve caught his breath as Bucky’s strong arms wrapped around his torso, the metal of his left arm cold against his bare skin.

And suddenly, everything was strangely okay. Steve fit perfectly into the warm curve of Bucky’s body. His arms were strong, and comforting around him. His breath was hot on the back of his neck. Steve felt like a kid; sick, cold, and deliriously happy, because when he was in Bucky’s arms everything felt perfect.

As a child, he hadn’t realized he wasn’t allowed to love a boy. As a pre-teen, he realized it all too well, but he couldn’t stop loving his friend James. So he’d told himself it was platonic, that Bucky was his best mate, that Bucky could _never_ love someone like him and it was better that way. But when they’d curled up together at night, Steve had felt his heart pounding in his narrow ribcage. When Bucky shifted to pull him closer, and buried his nose in the soft blond fuzz at the base of his neck, Steve had felt an explosion of butterflies in his stomach.

Now, as adults, decades later, Steve felt the familiar sensation of butterflies in his stomach as Bucky softly kissed the back of his neck. “You can talk to me y’know,” Bucky murmured, and Steve could feel the sounds rumbling deep in his chest. “You don’t have to tell me you’re fine every time I ask you how you’re managing.”

Steve inhaled deeply through his nose, his freezing cold fingers finding Bucky’s warm ones, and curling through them. He was silent for a long moment, absently running his thumb over the skin of Bucky’s palm, feeling the warmth of their flesh in contrast to the cold metal fingers against his ribs. Bucky was right of course. He’d been stuffing his emotions, and if he kept on that way, he was going to break. He’d been shutting everything, _everyone_ , even Bucky out, as a method of coping with the change. Now it was time to let those walls down. He parted his lips slowly, his tongue sliding out to wet them. “I miss…”

Bucky waited a moment for him to continue, letting the silence hang between them in the comfortable intimacy of their bedroom After a minute or so, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss behind his ear. “You miss?” He prompted, breathing the question directly into Steve’s ear so that he could hear him.

"I miss…color…"

" _Color_?" Bucky repeated, a little uncertainly. Steve shifted in the embrace to look back at him, meeting his gaze with dead earnestly.

"Color." He repeated seriously, feeling no need to explain himself further.

Bucky shifted with a frown, sliding his left arm out from under Steve scrawny body a bit and squirming over top of him. “Of all that’s happened, with all that’s different now…you miss… _color_ the most?”

"Absolutely," Steve replied without a moment of hesitation. "Everything else I can deal with, _hell_ , there are medicines now for 90% of what I deal with, but I’m never gonna get color back. I never-" his started, his voice growing suddenly agitated. "I didn’t-" Steve fumbled again, setting his jaw with frustration.

"Breath," Bucky intoned as a reminder. He could feel Steve’s chest beginning to heave. He could feel his heart rate speeding up. This early after his regression, Steve couldn’t afford to get worked up.

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. He stayed silent, allowing his breathing and heart rate to settle before he opened his eyes again. “I wasn’t fast enough.” Steve said simply, tipping his chin up to look at his lover. A sad little smile ghosted over his lips. “I could _see_ that the color fading and I still wasn’t fast enough to get a good look at you.”

Bucky froze, his mouth opening slightly in surprise. He’d expected Steve to miss his chances to help people with his strength, to save them, to be Captain America. What he hadn’t expected was that Steve understood that he could cope with everything; that is, everything except the thought of never seeing him in color again.

"Me…" Bucky asked softly, and Steve snorted, reaching up to grab the collar of his shirt in his boney hands.

“‘Course you, dummy.” He said, pulling him down by the collar until their foreheads were resting together. “I had no idea how blue your eyes were before…” He said quietly, “They just looked kinda gray…like now…” Steve murmured, and for the first time it really sunk in where Steve was coming from.

"What’re you say’n? I’m not as pretty in black and white?" Bucky teased, his breath hot on Steve’s lips, as he slid his hands down his ribs. This managed to coax a small laugh from Steve.

"Shut up jerk," he murmured, nuzzling Bucky gently. "You’re pretty enough, I just preferred how you looked in full color."

Bucky leaned down, pressing a warm, firm kiss to Steve’s lips. He held it for some time, his fingers coming up to caress his cheeks and neck. Steve was going to need time to adjust to this, and Bucky had to face the fact that, not matter how much he tried to fix things, there were something’s that were just never going to be the same. He could buy Steve medicine, and inhalers. He could get him to the best doctors for physical therapy, and hire the best cardiologist in the world to take a look at his heart, but there where some things that he couldn’t give back to Steve. He couldn’t give him back his strength, and he couldn’t give him back his color vision. What he could do was love him just as deeply and as earnestly as he had when he was a little boy.

Bucky held Steve close to him, kissing him softly for a long time. He ran his hands over his fragile body, refamiliarizing himself with Steve’s new form. He pressed kisses down his neck, and narrow chest, sliding his palms down his hip and legs. He wanted Steve to know he was beautiful, and he never wanted him to doubt that he loved him, regardless of what he looked like. The two lovers lay in bed, kissing, and snuggling close to each other among the disastrous piles of clothes until the both of them fell into a peaceful, comfortable sleep.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It was a Sunday afternoon, and warm white light spilled through the large, high windows down onto the gym floor, splattering patterns across the thick mats covering the hard tiles. Of all the elaborate rooms in Stark Tower, Tony was particularly proud of they gym. It had been specifically constructed to suit the needs of the individual team members. There were heavy bags, and targets, obstacle coursed and agility training. There was gymnastic equipment, as well as an elaborate climbing wall that was altogether unnecessary, but Tony had insisted on it anyways. Looking around the room, you could find equipment for just about any kind of exercise you could imagine, as well as a large, open space for sparring. 

Steve and Bucky stood in the center of the wide-open space. Bucky’s bare feet were set firmly into the mat, his padded hands raises in front of him. The smaller man’s blows landed with muted _thumps_ against the pads covering his wide palms. Steve’s face was flushed pink with exertion, a sheen of sweat causing locks of his soft, golden blond hair to stick to his damp forehead. He set his jaw, a soft puff of air escaping his lips as he struck again, his gloved fists smacking weakly off the pads.

Bucky pursed his lips, a look of concern flickering over his features. The impact of Steve’s fists was barely jostling his hands, but the effort was clearly exhausting him. He was throwing everything he had into the punches, and Bucky could barely feel the blows. He’d wondered weather or not this was a good idea this soon after the incident, but still, Steve had insisted on strength training. 

Bucky pulled back, and Steve aborted his punch halfway through as he saw the brunet drawing away. "Not bad," Bucky said, lowing the pads as Steve straightened, dropping his gloved hands to his side. His skinny ribcage was heaving, and he was flushed red from his neck up. He looked exhausted. Steve couldn’t take a lot more of this; he was still too weak from the serum reversal. Bucky stripped the pads off of his hands, his palms sweaty from being trapped inside the dense mitts. Bucky stooped, the movement emphasizing the chords of muscle along his back. He snatched up a bottle of water from the floor, straightening, and extending it to Steve as the other man stripped off his gloves.

The slender blond received the bottle in shaking fingers, unscrewing the cap clumsily. He tipped back his head, guzzling deeply, droplets of the liquid escaping the corners of his lips to trickle down the length of his neck. Bucky stared unashamedly, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, watching the way his soft pink lips worked the mouth of the bottle. God he was gorgeous. Since they were busy, Bucky was trying his hardest not to get distracted by the dirty images that his mind was conjuring at the sight, but he was having little success. 

Steve dropped the water bottle away from his lips, screwing on the cap and tossing it casually to the side. “Okay,” He panted, squaring off his feet and raising his bare knuckles. “Let’s go.” 

Bucky blinked, a little take aback by Steve’s stance. He’d expected that they’d take a rest, that Steve would allow his body to cool down, allow his breathing to even out. Bucky shook his head slightly. “What? No.” He said with a scoff. Bucky reached forward wrapping his large, warm hand over one of Steve’s clenched fists. He eased it gently down, brushing his thumb placatingly over the back of his knuckles. “You’re exhausted. You need to rest.” He admonished, but the look he received from Steve was far from compliant.

"Come on Buck." He said shortly, twisting his fist deftly out of Bucky’s placating hand and raising them again. "I wanna spare." 

"No."

"C’mon."

"Steve, you’re being ridiculous." 

"Scared?" Steve jabbed, a hint of a smirk ghosting over his lips, still flushed, and damp. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, bouncing slightly to warm him self up. He knew Bucky loved a challenge as much as he did. They were always trying to one up one another, and if anything would get Bucky to fight him, he knew this would. They’d been together their whole lives. Steve always knew just what would push Bucky’s buttons.

Bucky scoffed in disbelief, flummoxed by his persistence. But Steve’s guess had been right. “Fine.” He relented savagely, stooping to grab a chest pad off the floor. He tossed it at Steve, rolling his eyes. “Gear up.” But Steve was already shaking his head.

"We never used the gear before," He reminded him, kicking the pad aside and sending it sliding across the mats. He flexed his fingers, ready at any moment.

"Yeah, well, you were over six feet tall then and you were a freaking brick house of muscle, so gear up." Bucky insisted, moving to retrieve the discarded pad. But he wouldn’t have time. Bucky startled as Steve darted in, taking a sharp jab at his ribs. His muscle memory of all his training kicked in and he blocked the strike deftly, Steve’s boney fist smacking off his forearm. Bucky slid back into a fighting stance, trying to twist his barely suppressed smirk into a scowl. "Steve!" He scoffed, blocking another punch, his arms coming up to deflect it away from his chest.

"Come on! Fight me Barnes." Steve pressed, his foot arching up towards Bucky’s stomach.

Bucky’s metal arm shot out in a blur of silver, grabbing Steve’s ankle as it swung towards his midsection, stopping it dead. Bucky met his stunned gaze evenly. Steve had about half a second to process the fact that he was in big trouble. With his metal hand still clamped around Steve’s ankle, Bucky gripped further up his calf with his right hand. In one, short movement, he twisted Steve around effortlessly and sent him toppling face first onto the mats. 

Steve landed on his elbows with a grunt, the air very nearly leaving his lungs. He blinked rapidly, scrabbling to his feet as Bucky strolled, almost lazily over to where he had landed.  ”That was a pathetic throw,” Steve gasped, wiping at his damp forehead. His narrow chest was heaving, face pink as he suddenly threw himself into another punch. Bucky, not expecting him to move so quickly nearly caught it in the stomach. He deflected Steve’s blow at the last second, his knuckles striking the hard bones in his wrist. Bucky winced, but moved quickly. He grabbed the back of Steve’s neck dragging him in and landing two soft jabs that thumped against Steve’s ribcage.

At the sensation of the carefully controlled blows, Steve suddenly felt the Irish temper than he kept so carefully in check flaring up. Suddenly, all the feelings of frustration and inadequacy he’d convinced himself he _hadn’t_ been feeling boiled over, and he felt his blood heating with anger. “I’m not gonna break Bucky, just _hit_ me!” He snapped sharply, the misdirected anger and frustration manifesting itself in a series of punches, all of which Bucky deflected. The unsuccessful blows did nothing to cool Steve’s temper, and he threw everything he had into the attack.

Bucky set his jaw, blocking Steve’s rapid fire punches. He was getting too worked up. Bucky had know he was going to need to blow off some steam about this eventually, but he couldn’t let Steve hurt himself in the process. He reached out, snatching Steve’s wrists but the boney man yanked viciously against him. “Steve-” He started, but Steve twisted his wrists out of Bucky’s grasp, trying to strike again. Bucky blocked the frustrated shots, seeing his lover’s face clouded so painfully with helpless anger. “Steve,” He tired again,  “I’m not gonna-“

Steve’s knee came up unexpectedly, his sharp kneecap jabbing painfully into Bucky’s soft stomach. Bucky hissed in frustration. He’d allowed himself to be distracted by trying to calm Steve’s frustration, and he’d gotten a shot in fair and square. Despite his physical weakness, the shot had been surprisingly painful. Suddenly, Bucky’s head snapped up as he recovered from the short and snatched Steve’s fragile wrist in an unbreakable grasp. He pushed forward, stepping in against him, and wrestling his squirming body to the ground. 

He dropped down over him, pinning Steve’s legs to the mat with his muscular tights, his weight sitting heavily on his narrow hips. Bucky’s hands tightened on Steve’s fragile wrist, which were pinned above his head as he twisted against his restraint. Steve’s chest was rising and falling in ragged gasps, his face red from anger and exertion. An expression that was very nearly rage lingered just below the surface. He was feeling the loss of his strength, and it was dealing a fairly heavy emotional blow. Bucky only hoped that this didn’t hurt his already damaged self-image even more. He caught his breath, swallowing hard as he pinned his boyfriend to the cushion floor, his palms pressing down on his wrists. “I’m not gonna hit you…” Bucky panted.

Steve’s cheeks flushed deeper, and he gave a painful little twist, trying to squirm free of Bucky’s grip. He’d been in denial for days now, telling himself that he was fine, that he’d adjust. But the truth was, he was feeling painfully inadequate. He felt weak, and helpless. He felt breakable, and everything in him had just wanted someone to prove to him that he wasn’t. He wanted to take a hit, a good, solid punch and get up from it, just like the old days. He could hear Bucky voice, young, and free of pain, teasing him softly. _‘Right, cause you’ve got nothing to prove.’_ He _did_ have something to prove. He’d _always_ had something to prove, and he always would.

In the 40’s, he’d fought every day for people to see him as more than baggage. He wasn’t a dead weight. He wasn’t a burden to society like he’d been told. Steve had worked constantly to prove wrong those who would see him as worthless because of his physical limitation, and now, in the 21st century, he was back to the same thing. Even though people seemed more accepting of those with disabilities, there were still plenty of people who would just rather his heart give out. 

Bucky’s saddled his weight lower, pinning Steve more effectively as he squirmed underneath him.  ”Steve.” He said firmly, shifting his lover’s wrists into one hand and grabbing his chin. He tipped up Steve’s face, meeting his mutinous gaze. “Steve, you’re _fine_.” He insisted, giving his jaw a reaffirming squeeze. “You don’t have to take a hit to prove to me that you’re not gonna break, I _know_ you’re not…but I’m not gonna hit you.”

A hint of shame crept into Steve’s expression and he dropped his gaze away. He lay there for a moment, still gasping softly, avoiding Bucky’s reassuring gaze.  He turned his head to the side, freeing his chin from Bucky’s grip with a gentle tug. He shifted his wrists, and this time, Bucky relented, letting go and allowing Steve to slip out from underneath him. The blond hair man stumbled uncertainly to his feet, his head dropped, a weight in his chest that had nothing to do with his heart condition. He was silent for a long moment, just standing, barefoot on the mats. “I’m…gonna go change…” He murmured softly, half expecting Bucky to stop him. When Steve didn’t hear a calling voice, or feel Bucky’s hand catch his wrist, he felt a little niggle of relief. He wasn’t really in the mood to talk, so he stepped towards the door, his bare feet padding softly on the mats as he left.

Bucky pulled himself up, a sigh of frustration hissing between his teeth as he watched Steve go. His shoulder’s slumped slightly and he turned his head away from the man he loved. Steve had a hard line to tow right about now, and there were some things Bucky could do for him. Right now, Steve needed to cool off, let his temper ease, and then they could talk. He hated to let him go looking so upset, and angry, but there was nothing Bucky could do about it. Steve wanted something to prove that he wasn’t made of glass, but Bucky _couldn’t_ hurt him, how could he? Steve was the center of his goddamn universe, and he’d already done so much to hurt him in the past. He couldn’t just hit him because Steve had asked.

 Sam had warned Bucky to never overestimate how well Steve was handling the transition, and he’d been right. Of course he had, Sam could read Steve like an open book. But Steve was getting better and better at hiding what he was really feeling, and it was getting to the point that even Sam was having a hard time seeing his struggle. He kept his feelings tight under wraps; except for today. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, here it comes...THE NUDITY!

Steve pulled a pair of his new, dark jeans on over his boxers. The sweat from their work in the gym had cooled on his body, leaving him feeling unnecessarily chilly.  The weight over his chest had sunk to the pit of his stomach, leaving him feeling hollow and insecure. His reflection caught his eye far too often as he redress, and every time he looked in the mirror, he saw something new that he wished were different. The serum had been a mixed blessing, but he’d also never really realized what it was like to be in full health before. He realized it now, vividly. His lungs were weak; his breathing was pitiful at best. He was partially deaf, partially blind, and _fully_ color blind. He was anemic, ridden with scoliosis, and easily fatigued; and that wasn’t even touching the subjects of his arrhythmia, stomach ulcers, or high blood pressure.   

He was, in short, one misplaced heartbeat away from an early grave. 

Steve startled at the sound of knuckles rapping on the door, snapping out of his thoughts. “Come in,” He said quickly. Realizing he was still shirtless, Steve stooped to pick his shirt up off the floor, a spasm of pain twitching up his spine. He grimaced, his eyes fluttering closed for a second before he straightened, turning to face the entrance.

The door opened slowly, and Bucky stepped into their shared bedroom, easing the door closed with a soft click that was lost to Steve’s impaired hearing. He paused there for a moment, standing with his back against the door, still shirtless from their work in the gym. A soft expression lingered on his features as he watched Steve struggle his shirt on over his boney shoulders. He drew in a deep breath through the nose, silent, and uncertain. He just wanted to make everything better, but he didn’t know how. He wanted to make Steve smile again, for real, no the fake smiles that hid what he was actually feeling. The bottom line was, Steve deserved the world, and Bucky couldn’t give it to him. 

Steve looked up, meeting Bucky’s gaze after he’d stood, silent against the door for several minutes. He faltered a moment, dropping his gaze again as he messed clumsily with the top button of his shirt. He knew he’d been horrible today, and Bucky deserved an apology for that. He should have never put him in that position. Asking Bucky to hurt him, what had he been thinking? “I’m sorry I yelled…” Steve said quietly, his gaze flicking up again. “I was…” The right words wouldn’t form on his lips. Angry? Embarrassed? That didn’t begin to cover it, so he left the sentence hang. 

Bucky shifted his weight away from the door, slipping up behind him and gently wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders, nuzzling his face down against the side of his neck. Bucky’s nose and lips were warm against Steve’s cold skin, and the skinny young man drew in a deep, slow breath, relaxing into the hug. 

"You know I didn’t tell you I wasn’t gonna hit you ‘cause I thought you couldn’t take it right?" Bucky pressed, kissing the side of his neck tenderly. "I said I wouldn’t hit you ‘cause I _love_ you…" 

Steve swallowed hard, still feeling frustration and discontent sitting heavily in the pit of his stomach. “I know…” He mumbled, scuffing his bare heel across the carpet. The sentence hung in the air, the silent _‘but still’_ begging to be spoke. Steve swallowed the urge back. Bucky was trying to help, he wanted him to feel that he was doing some good. 

As it turned out, he didn’t need to finish the thought, Bucky finished it for him. “ _But_ you still feel like glass huh?” He asked, moving his hand softly up his neck and tangling his fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. 

A soft growl of frustration tugged free of Steve’s lips, and he squeezed his eyes tightly close. “Yes,” He admitted. “and it’s not just you, it’s everyone else too. I know that they’re just being careful and making sure I’m not gonna drop dead after the serum reversal, but still. With the way I’m treated right about now you’d think I was laying on death’s freakin welcome mat!”

Bucky could feel the frustration and anger simmering just beneath Steve’s ivory skin. He hadn’t wanted to be treated any more carefully than anyone else. Not in the 40’s, and certainly not now. Bucky could never hit Steve to hurt him, even if that’s what he wanted, but he was beginning to form an idea on a vastly different method of proving to Steve that he wasn’t going to treat him like a breakable commodity. 

Bucky allowed Steve to stew in silence for a few long moments before trailing his lips up the side of Steve’s neck, pulling away briefly, only to close them over his earlobe. He sucked on the soft bit of cartilage for a moment, before closing his teeth over it, giving the lobe a sharp nip. 

Steve drew in an alarmed breath, startled as he yanked his ear away, the cartilage slipping from between Bucky’s teeth. He squirmed, turning in the embrace to face Bucky. “What are you doing?” He asked, managing a patient little smirk, his ear buzzing from the playful bite.

"What?" Bucky asked innocently, knowing that it wouldn’t take Steve long to catch on to the fact that he was up to no good. "Little too hard for you?"

Steve’s cheeks colored with frustration, for a moment, missing the look of mischief in his boyfriend’s eyes. “No.” He said shortly, dropping his gaze down as he squirmed his elbows between the two of them, trying to push himself free of Bucky’s embrace. Unfortunately, getting past a bionic arm that was locked in place around his upper back was _not_ something he was physically capable of. 

"Like you could take worse." Bucky scoffed, feeling a little bit like a heel, but it couldn’t be helped. 

Steve’s eyes snapped up, burning with indignation. “I can take anything you dish out at me.” He snapped, feeling genuinely peeved now. He and Bucky tried to settle their differences in as mature a way as possible, but Bucky was being downright childish. He knew he was upset right now, he knew he was feeling insecure about his body and his strength. It was more than just childish, it was little bit cruel. 

At the sound of Steve’s indignant words, Bucky’s lips curled into a smirk, and he drug Steve back pulling him abruptly down onto the bed. Steve yelped in surprise, Bucky straddling his narrow hips and pinning his wrist just as he’d done earlier in the gym. “Prove it punk.” Bucky grinned, and as he stared down at him, he saw the cogs click into place. Briefly, understanding lit Steve’s expression, before his eyes narrowed. A smirk pulled slowly at Steve’s lips as he stared up at him through those damn near perfect eyelashes of his, his tongue poking out just enough to brush over his lower lip.

"You gonna manhandle me a bit _Sargent_?" He breathed, raising his hips just enough to press them teasingly between Bucky’s muscular thighs.

Bucky swallowed, Steve’s movement sending a crackled of pleasure like electric down his spine. His cock began to harden with interest, pressing against the zipper of his jeans. Bucky forced himself to focus, leaning in closer.

"Do you want me too… _Captain_?" Bucky asked, emphasizing the last word in a tone that managed to be simultaneously teasing and hot as hell. It hissed between his obscenely red lips, and Steve felt certain he could almost taste the teasing jab on his wet, eager mouth. 

Steve found himself swallowing hard, but there wasn’t a trace of nervousness in him, just a thrilling excitement that made his heart pound against his fragile ribcage. Steve wet his lips with a soft sweep of his tongue, not breaking Bucky’s eye contact even for a moment. “You don’t think I can take it?” Steve challenged, lifting his chin proudly as he twisted his boney wrists under Bucky’s palms. He felt his grip tighten. 

Bucky smirked at Steve’s blatant challenge and he shifted further over him, buckling his elbows to moving in closer to Steve’s flushed face.  He canted his head ever so slightly to the side, leering down at him with a dangerous, predatory smirk. He didn’t answer him. Bucky leaned down, abruptly crushing his mouth against Steve’s. In an instant, Steve had freed his wrists from Bucky’s grip, his hands moving up to his hair, gripping into the over long locks. His fingers twined in, twisting, and tugging as Bucky pinned him to the mattress. Steve’s pulse was racing, and Bucky kissed him deeper, his mouth working hungrily at Steve’s. His hot, wet tongue pressed into Steve’s mouth, grazing teasingly over his teeth before sliding over his tongue. Heat washed down the length of Steve’s spine, his lips tingling as Bucky drug him closer.

Bucky broke the kiss for a brief moment, adrenaline buzzing through his body as Steve let slip a soft gasp of pleasure. Bucky’s lips, damp with saliva, pulled into a smile. This was exactly what he wanted. Oh he was going to manhandle him alright, but he wanted Steve to feel good too. They’d roughed each other up in bed before; that was one thing that didn’t _have_ to change.

Bucky’s fingers curled suddenly into the front of Steve’s shirt, yanking it open, the buttons sliding free. He pushed the material aside, roughly grabbing the side of Steve’s neck and dragging him up against him. One of Steve’s hands slid free of Bucky’s hair, sliding down his neck, his short fingernails digging into his skin just between his shoulder blades. Steve moved in eagerly, closing the distance between their lips again. Bucky dipped his chin slightly, breaking the kiss before biting down on Steve’s lower lip. The smaller man yelped softly, his grip tightening in his hair. A buzz of pain prickled across Bucky’s scalp; payback. “You little-” Bucky hissed, nabbing a handful of Steve’s hair and pulling his head back, pushing him into the mattress once more.

Steve drew in a sharp breath, closing his eyes and, for a moment, allowing himself to fully enjoy the sensation. Bucky’s lips trailed down his exposed throat. Even with his eyes closed he knew he was smirking, he could feel it against his skin. His hands had moved to his waist now; his fingers, metal and flesh, pressing into his ribs. 

"C’mon Bucky," Steve jabbed, his breath catching as his lover kissed hungrily down the length of his neck. "I’ve had sex with show girls with a rougher hand than you." 

Something imperceptible shifted in Bucky, and suddenly his grip tightened, his metal fingers digging into his ribs. Steve had just enough time to feel a thrill of excitement before Bucky closed his teeth over his throat. He bit down, putting controlled pressure on Steve’s windpipe. His breath hitched in his throat as Bucky eased off, sucking a dark bruise right onto the front of his neck. It was going to be quite the spectacle when the Avengers saw them later in the day.

His hands moved down, pulling Steve’s belt free, and forcefully yanking the jeans off of his slender hips. Steve arched his body obligingly, squirming out of his jeans and tugging at the waistband of Bucky’s. In a moment, Bucky had stripped off his pants as well, but Steve was still impatiently yanking at his boxer. 

"Come on slowpoke," Steve said through gritted teeth. He stripped Bucky’s boxers off of him, arching his body as he crushed his mouth against his, gripping his ass. His fingers slide across Bucky’s warm flesh, the tips of his fingers digging in to the soft skin possessively.

A dark grin flitted across Bucky’s features as he pressed Steve down, deepening the kiss. He slid his hands down his ribs, already seeing blotches of discoloration where his fingers had pressed roughly into Steve’s ivory skin. He broke the kiss, working his hot wet mouth along Steve’s jaw until he came to just below his ear. He took the soft bit of cartilage between his teeth again, biting down until Steve yelped, squirming under him in pleasure. 

"Turn over." He hissed shortly, not so much a request as an order, less than that; a warning. He grabbed Steve’s narrow hips, rolling him forcefully onto his stomach. His fingers curled through the fine blond hair at the base of Steve’s skull and he pressed his head down, pushing his face into the mattress. The man’s left arm slid around Steve’s waist, drawing his hips up, his fingers curling into the waistband of his boxers.

Steve bit his lip, excitement fluttering in his chest as Bucky handled him roughly. Rolling him over, pinning him down; it was all part of the fun. His breath caught in his throat as he felt cool air in contact with his sensitive skin, Bucky sliding his boxers off his skinny hips as he sucked marks over the notches in his spine. 

"You’re a glutton for punishment aren’t ya Stevie?" Bucky breathed, the words whispered directly into his ear. His metal arm loosened around his waist. His cold fingers tracing the length of his spine, following all the way down to his ass. 

Steve swallowed hard, feeling a jolt of excitement as one of Bucky’s cold metal fingers pressed against the entrance of his body, working teasingly around the tight ring of muscle. He stifled a groan. “You’re a lot’a talk…” Steve panted, his fingers twisting into the sheets. “It’d be nice to have sex sometime _this_ year if you don’t mind.” 

Bucky snarled softly, his teeth closing down on the back of his neck, sucking, and biting until Steve gave a little gasp of pleasure that sent a flood of warmth through Bucky’s body. He pulled back, freeing his fingers from Steve’s hair as he yanked open the drawer of the nightstand, fumbling blindly for the bottle of lube. “Mouthy little brat…” He muttered, not sure if Steve heard him or not, but it didn’t matter. Bucky opened the bottle of lube, squirting the slick substance onto the cool metal of his fingers, sliding his hand back down between Steve’s legs.

Steve bit his lip, his heart pounding as he felt Bucky’s right hand curl around the back of his neck, the freezing cold metal of his left pressing against his sensitive hole. His fists tightened, clutching sweaty handfuls of the sheets, his body vibrating with anticipation. 

Bucky started out quick. He pushed two fingers roughly into the ring of muscle. Steve’s body tightened around him, a rewarding little cry escaping his lover’s lips. Bucky slid his slick fingers into his entrance, drawing them out and pushing back in. Steve whined in pleasure as Bucky slid a third in to join the first two. He rocked his hips back, impatiently pushing Bucky deeper into him.

"Is that really all you got?" Steve challenged almost scornfully, his breath coming out in short gasps.

"Shut up you mouthy little shit." Bucky smirked, making sure that Steve definitely heard him this time. In bed, Steve was loud, and opinionated, and bossy, and he knew it. But Bucky was having fun making him wait.

Steve’s head snapped around, meeting Bucky’s gaze defiantly. “ _Make me_ , tough guy.” He demanded, barely stifling his smile as Bucky groaned in disbelief, rolling his eyes at him, frustration etched on his features.

"So help me Steve I will shove this up you’re ass." He snapped, the words barely out of his mouth before Steve was retorting again, a sarcastic quip for everything. 

"Bring it ya fuckin’ Commie." 

Bucky froze, the playful smirk on his lips darkening to something much more dangerous, and Steve knew he’d pressed just the right button. “Commie?” He whispered, pressing in closer to him, his breath hot on Steve’s ear. Bucky slid in down to his knuckles, experimentally spreading his fingers, stretching Steve painfully.

The blond swallowed back a yelp, gritting his teeth. “You heard me.” He retorted weakly, a thrill running up his spine as Bucky bit down on his ear, working his finger’s deeper into his hot, tight body.  

"Ты будешь смортеть твой очень маленький рот Стиви..." He purred, the Russian words slipped easily off his tongue. Steve shuddered beneath him. It was funny how much that turned him on. His words had momentarily silenced Steve, and he lay beneath him, face pressed into the mattress, gasping softly as he waited. 

Bucky pulled his fingers out of him, the smaller man inhaling sharply. He grabbed the bottle of lube impatiently, squirting a healthy amount onto his palm and stroking himself, slicking the substance along his aching cock. Everything in him wanted to kiss Steve gently, and remind him that they could always stop if it got to be too much, but he got the distinct impression that that wouldn’t go over very well right now. Steve didn’t want his assurance; he wanted Bucky to prove to him that he wasn’t going to treat him like glass. So instead, Bucky leaned in, once again resting his lips against his ear. 

"I hope you can live up to all that big talk of yours," He hissed, sliding his arm around Steve’s skinny hips and drawing them roughly up against him. His fingers pressed into the soft skin above Steve’s hipbones, digging bruises into the tender white flesh. He eased his hips forward, the head of his cock pressing against the puckered ring of muscle.

Steve exhaled shakily, his eyes closed, face flushed a delicate pink. “If you’d just shut up and fuck me already we’d see.” Steve retorted testily, and Bucky suppressed a smirk, remembering that he was supposed to be rough with him. His face settled into a neutral expression, and Bucky allowed just a hint of his old coldness to creep back into his personality. He allowed his mind to dabble just at the edge of that dark, dangerous place that he’d lived in for so long. If Steve wanted him to manhandle him, then that was his mission. 

Bucky’s hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of Steve’s sweaty blond locks. He yanked his upper body up off the mattress, dragging him against him as he thrust forward with his hips. He turned his head into the side of Steve’s exposed neck, biting and sucking painful marks on the pale flesh. Bucky pushed his cock into Steve’s body, moving quickly, forcing it in with painful thrusts that drew delighted yelps of pain from Steve’s kiss-swollen lips. 

His fingers curled tighter into Steve’s hair, yanking painfully as he thrust into him. Bucky’s hand slid around Steve’s front, the gears in his metal arm humming, compensating for the rise in his body temperature. Steve’s chest was heaving; rivulets of sweat trickling down his slender naked body. Bucky’s hand curled tightly around his hard cock, finger still slick with lube.

Steve bit his lip until he tasted blood, forcing back the pained moan of pleasure that threatened to escape his lips. Bucky was toying with him. He stroked and squeezed his cock, the metal going warm against his sweaty skin. Steve pushed himself back, his fingers clutching at the damp sheets as he rocked back on Bucky cock, pushing him deeper. The smaller man’s face went slack with pleasure, his swollen lips parting with a moan as he pushed himself further back, fucking himself on Bucky’s cock.

A savage grin flickered across Bucky features as he pulled back, drawing his cock out before thrusting sharply with his hips. He pressed an open mouthed kiss against Steve’s crooked spine, sucking a dark, circular mark between two notches in his backbone. The dark haired man worked his hips, finding a steady rhythm of short, forceful thrusts.

"Bucky," Steve gasped, his voice having lost to sarcastic, demanding edge. "H-harder." He panted, ducking his flushed face.

"I dunno Stevie." Bucky murmured teasingly in his ear, but Steve set his jaw, shoving his hips back viciously.

"Dammit Barnes I said _harder_!" He snapped, his eyes squeezed tightly closed. He could feel Bucky hard cock pushing inside him, he could feel himself stretching painfully around him, but it wasn’t enough.

Suddenly Bucky pushed Steve’s flushed face back down against the damp sheets, grabbing his hips hard enough to make him yelp, and thrusting into him. His forced the whole of his length into Steve’s slender, tiny body, fucking him into the mattress. His free hand slid around, gripping Steve’s round, reddened ass as he sunk his teeth into the soft skin over his shoulder, leaving rings of teeth marks on his porcelain white flesh. The fingers of his left hand stayed curled around Steve’s aching cock. He slid them along the shaft, his fingertips teasing over the head of his cock, swiping away the beads of precome, smearing it down the length of his slick, hard member. He teased his fingers over the sensitive flesh, gripping, and stroking as he moved his hips, thrusting powerfully into Steve’s swollen hole.

A cry escaped Steve’s lips, and he ducked his head, panting as his boyfriend took him from behind, fucking him roughly with no reservations. Steve fragility was the furthest thing from Bucky mind, and that’s exactly how Steve wanted it. His mouth opened wordlessly, every demand, plea, or sarcastic quip he’d been meaning to say dying in his throat. Bucky was manhandling him and it felt so freaking good that he couldn’t even think. His brain had gone fuzzy with static. Words failed him entirely.

He could feel the energy mounting in his body, filling him up, pressing outward like an explosion waiting to happen. He rocked back on Bucky’s cock, gasping unintelligible strings for words as he tried to hold himself together for a few minutes longer. Bucky didn’t break stride. He continued fucking him roughly, biting wherever he could find purchase and gripping bruises into his skin. Bucky gave one particularly forcefully thrust and a scream tore from Steve’s ragged throat. His skinny, sweat soaked body tensed up and he came, almost violently, a gasp pull from his lungs.

Steve’s body spasmed with pleasure, shudders wracking his skinny frame. His mind had gone numb, although he still felt an almost heightened awareness of Bucky. He could feel the tiny gaps between the metal plates of his fingers, still stroking his sensitive, messy cock. He could feel his sharp teeth against his skin, the pressure of the bite easing almost imperceptibly. He could feel his touch going suddenly gentle, as he pressed feather light kisses down his spine.

A tiny smile tugged at Bucky’s lips as he felt Steve go soft under his palms, his tense little body weakening with pleasure. He kissed the back of his neck, his lips lingering as he worked into him, now with slow, gentle strokes that sent soft shivers of pleasure up his lovers spine. He pressed his hips in deeper, and a soft gasp of air escaped Steve’s lips as Bucky undid him, reducing him to a trembling mess with tender little kisses, and a soft, sincere touch. Bucky slid into Steve, making love to him gently until he came, warm pleasure flooding his body.

His hips lost their rhythm, and he stopped, his arms trembling as he held himself up. The dark haired man drew in a deep lungful of air, his head fuzzy, body warm with pleasure. He eased out of Steve. Slowly, gently, he drew the length of his cock out of the smaller man’s body, his wide, warm palms stroking down his prominent ribcage.

Once he had pulled out of him, Bucky’s hand slid up to Steve’s shoulder, taking it and turning him gently over onto his back. Steve shifted willingly, his chest still heaving, body drenched with sweat. Bucky closed his eyes with a sigh, leaning in to nuzzle softly against Steve’s face.

" _Now_ can I touch you nicely?" He panted, his breath hot against his lover’s mouth. Steve nodded breathlessly, his wet, red lips brushing against Bucky’s as he did so. A small smile pulled at the dark haired man’s lips, and his pressed at tender kiss to Steve’s mouth, cradling his hands gently behind his neck.

Steve lay on his back, his breathing beginning to slowly even out as Bucky softly pressed kisses against his lips, and jaw, and eyelids. He kissed his cheeks, and nose, brushing his lips against his temples and ears.

"You’re _gorgeous_ …" Bucky whispered breathlessly, kissing softly over ever bruise and bite mark he’d left on his neck. A soft hum rumbled in his chest, his hand grazing lightly over his bare chest and hips. "You’re _so_ gorgeous…" He breathed.

A little color crept back into Steve’s cheeks as Bucky worked his mouth down his ribcage, kissing over every rib that, to Steve, always seemed far to prominent. “C’mon Buck…” Steve panted, closing his eyes. “Don’t coddle me.”

"I will." Bucky shot back, raising his voice a little because he meant every word of what he said and he didn’t want Steve to miss a single one. "You’re _stunning_." He continued, pressing his mouth to a bruise left on his protruding hipbone. "I fell completely, head-over-heels, doodling-your-name-in-the-corner-of-my-notebooks in love with you when we were kids. Even as a brat I knew you were the prettiest guy I was ever gonna lay eyes on, and you were tough, and stubborn, and smart to boot. You were brave, moral, and _totally_ batshit crazy, and I knew I’d be the biggest moron in the world if I let you go." He said, moving back up the length of Steve’s body, feathering kisses over his skin.

"When I was in the army, I’d tell the fellas about my _someone_ back home, with eyes like the sky, and soft blond hair…" He breathed, touching another kiss to the corner of Steve’s brow. "I’d tell them…you were the prettiest thing I’d ever seen…" Bucky faltered a moment, Steve staring at him wordlessly.

"I-I _still_ think that…" Bucky fumbled, his cheeks heating slightly as his stride was broken, Steve’s bright blue eyes piercing into him. "I mean, yeah you’re not six foot something with two hundred and forty pounds of pure muscles but that’s _not_ why I fell in love with you." He said earnestly. "I fell in love with you when we were kids! When you were a tiny, scrappy little eight year old with a laundry list of health issues and a veritable death sentence hanging over your head. I knew I loved you when you tried to beat up a kid for taking about me behind my back and got your ass handed to you. I spent half my life pining over you, knowing we couldn’t be together even if you _did_ love me, but I was alright with that because I still got to have you as a part of my life."

Bucky hesitated, his finger sliding softly over his chest, feeling the sweat cooling under his touch. “You think I loved you _any_ better as Captain America?” He breathed, one hand sliding beneath him, softly tracing the twist in his spine that Steve had spent hours agonizing over. “You think, because you’re not as tall, or as strong, or as healthy now that I love you any _less_?” A tiny laugh escaped Bucky’s lips and he leaned down, pressing his mouth against Steve’s he closed his eye, pressing the kiss deeper, his lips warm, and earnest against Steve’s.

Steve craned up, leaning into the kiss as his slender arms came up, twining around Bucky’s neck. He could feel his solid muscles beneath his hands. He could feel the way his lover’s body relaxed under his touch. Steve’s chest had gone inexplicably tight, and it was as if all the insecurity, and feelings of inadequacy that had plagued him for weeks had begun to unravel. Because if Bucky loved him, who else’s approval did he need?

Bucky pulled away reluctantly, his nose brushing softly against Steve’s. “I _love_ your crooked back,” he breathed, pecking his lips softly once more. “I love your skinny ribs and hips,” he smirked, ducking his head and kissing his ticklish sides.

Steve gave a soft gasp of alarm, his boney hands flying to Bucky’s shoulders trying to push his lips away from his sensitive ribs. “Bucky!” He gasped, he voice wobbling as he tried not to laugh.

Bucky bit his lip, nuzzling down Steve’s chilly skin and kissing his stomach softly. “I love your soft little tummy,” he murmured, squishing his nose in where there had formerly been lines of solid muscle. “I love your cute ass, and the way you wheeze a little when you talk. I love the way you wrinkle your nose when you have to squint to see somethin’, and how you kick up a fuss about take’n your medicine.” He kissed his way softly back up Steve’s chest, nuzzling into his neck, his breath warm, and comforting on his skin. “I love…well fuck Stevie, I’m just totally flipped over you.” Bucky lifted his head, meeting his gaze. “You’re _gorgeous_ …” He breathed, before a little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “And if you don’t believe me, or try to fight me on this, you’ll be looking at a repeat performance of this speech every day for the rest of your little asthmatic life.”

Steve snorted softly, ducking his flushed, pink face away from him. “You _really_ think I’m gonna be this little for the rest of my life?” Steve asked with a smirk that seemed…almost shy. As if the pink in his cheeks wasn’t from the absolutely filthy sex they’d just had, but rather from Bucky’s confession.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Bucky’s mouth. “Well, you might grow an inch or two,” he relented teasingly, and then felt a tug of guilt in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t forget that Steve was still struggling. His expression softened, and Bucky leaned down, pressing an apologetic kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “M’teasing…” He murmured softly, brushing his nose against Steve’s. “No…Tony and Bruce are smart fellas…they’ll…patch you up…You’ll be hitting you head off the tops of door frames again in no time, trust me…” Bucky sighed.

Steve tipped his head to the side, shifting a sheaf of his sweaty blond hair out of his eyes. “You know,” he said suddenly, looking a little uncertain as he drew in a deep breath. “Being my old size again…for good…It wouldn’t be such a bad way to live.”

Bucky blinked, his lips parting uncertainly as he tried to gauge weather or not Steve was joking, or even just saying that for his benefit. But the expression on Steve’s face was honest. He was staring up at him, evenly, unblinking. Bucky jaw dropped a little lower with the realization that Steve seemed very serious. He gapped, staring down at him in disbelief. “I-I’m sorry, am _I_ going deaf now?” He stammered, watching a patient little smile touch his boyfriend’s lips.

"Close your mouth Buck, y’look like a fish." Steve recommended, reaching up to playfully push up on Bucky’s jaw. Bucky obliged, closing his mouth with a soft click of teeth, now squinting suspiciously. "Look," Steve continued, looking a little embarrassed again as he spoke. "I know I’ve been a mess these past two week, and I’m sorry…I…haven’t been adjusting well…" He admitted, remember the countless times in the past few weeks that he’d looked at himself in the mirror and seen nothing good. There hadn’t been a single thing he’d been able to look at and honestly say he liked about himself. But Bucky’s constant encouragement had changed things. He’d begun to regroup, begun to remember that his identity wasn’t tied to what he looked like, that he could still do good in the world without being 6.4. 

Steve continued with a small smile. “But I’m getting better now…I’m…feeling better about myself, and, to be honest, there are some thing about being like this that I missed.” Steve said, shifting on to his side as Bucky eased down next to him. He blinked slowly, studying his boyfriend’s face, which, even in black and white, was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. He reached out, brushing his fingers softly over Bucky’s cheekbones, his chilly fingertips grazing over his brow and eyelids.

"I’m not sayin I’m 100% yet," Steve relented, "But if nothing ever turns up with the serum…I’m gonna be okay."

Bucky smiled, reaching up to curl his metal finger’s around Steve’s. “Good.” He said shortly. “Cause if you get feeling low again I’m just gonna have to pin you down and kiss every inch of your skinny little body until you get it through your thick skull how perfect you are.” 

"Yeah? And if I get feeling kinda fragile?"

A smirk curled at the edges of Bucky’s mouth and he rolled over top of him once more, leaning down to press a smiling kiss against his mouth. “Then I just have to rough you up a bit again.”

Steve hummed into the kiss, twisting his fingers through Bucky’s over long hair and pulling him down close. “Or…” He murmured, his voice muffled between kisses. “I could manhandle you a bit…”

"Oh you think so _tough guy?"_ Bucky countered, nipping his lip gently.

Steve moved unexpectedly, surging forward and rolling Bucky onto his back, using his own weight against him. Bucky startled in alarm as Steve flipped him. His mind briefly registered that, while Steve wasn’t as strong as he used to be, he still knew all of his tactics. He knew how to fight bigger, stronger people, he knew how to use their weight and muscle against them. It occurred to Bucky that once Steve was fully recovered from the trauma of the reversal he might yet be a strong fighter.

Steve pushed down, straddled the larger man’s hips and pinning his wrists above his head. His knuckles were white as he gripped Bucky’s wrists, a grin playing on his features. “You were saying, _Tough guy_?” He challenged, as Bucky stared up at him with a delighted grin.  He was trying not to be aroused at the thought of skinny little Steve manhandling him, but he was failing miserably.

Bucky mouth was pulled into a wide smile and he tipped his head to the side. “Nothing,” He relented, biting his lip. “Just…I’d like to see you try.”

 Steve stared down at him, his gaze dark, and intense, and for a brief moment Bucky thought he really was going to turn him over and fuck him into the mattress right then and there. But Steve’s expression relaxed and he kissed Bucky gently, settling down against his broad chest. “Nah, not right now.” He murmured, snuggling in. He inhaled contentedly, turning his cheek in and pressing a kiss to Bucky’s chest. “I’m a little tired. And you said I shouldn’t push myself.”

Bucky’s grin faded to a warm, affectionate smile as he slid his hand softly over Steve’s damp hair. The smaller man’s body was warm against his chest, the weight just as he remembered it when they were young. He supposed of everything he’d missed about little Steve, he’d missed the way he fit into his arms the most. Bucky tipped his chin down, pressing his lips to the top of Steve head. The atmosphere had gone calm, and sweet, but Bucky couldn’t resist one ore jab.” Sure,” He murmured softly. “But…later, right?”

At the quietly teasing words, Steve shifted, looking up at him and meeting his gaze. A little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he nipped softly at Bucky’s stubbly chin, the promise slipping from his lips. “Later.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation: Ты будешь смортеть твой очень маленький рот Стиви. = You should watch your pretty little mouth Stevie...
> 
> (Thanks to stickinsect for the translation tip.)


	6. Chapter 6

Eight weeks passed with little to report although Tony and Bruce continued to work on the serum problem with virtually no success. Sam invited Steve to a program for veterans who’d been honorably discharged on account of injuries they’d received that physically disabled them. Even with Bucky’s encouragement, and Steve’s new resolve to adjust to his new circumstances, he felt that the program did him a lot of good. Even though Bucky never let a day pass without encouraging Steve about his physical condition, it was nice to talk with other men and women in similar situations. They all had their stories, all different from his own, but yet all familiar. They were all dealing with the same things. They all needed the same support as him.

As he continues to recover, Steve still insisted on training, although he now took a vastly different approach. Rather than sparring with Bucky and trying to regain the skills he’d been able to employ with his increase height and strength, Steve began work with Natasha instead. It was common knowledge among the residents of Stark Tower that Natasha was the most skill in agility, and combat techniques that didn’t rely on muscle. She was a good teacher, and Steve proved himself to be an excellent pupil.

There were still bad days, but for the most part, Steve had grown content.

It was much later than he usually slept on a Tuesday morning, when Steve rolled over to find Bucky’s side of the bed empty, the sheets cold. He blinked sleepily, unconcerned. Bucky was often up early, and considering it was nearly ten, he really wasn’t surprised either.

The blond haired man pushed himself up into a sitting position, the sheets sliding down to pile around his waist. It was a warm, lazy kind of morning, and Steve couldn’t quite bring himself to regret sleeping in. He inhaled slowly through his nose, allowing the oxygen to dust the cobwebs from his mind. His mouth tasted fuzzy from sleep. Steve reached over; blindly groping for his pill case and the bottle of water that he kept on the nightstand. That was one thing that he was still getting used to; the sheer amount of medication he had to take in a day. Blinking blearily, Steve popped open the pill case, shaking the small handful of pills into his palm. He downed his medications a few pills at a time, chase down each with a few swallows of room temperature water before slipping out of bed and shuffling out the door.

Steve yawned hugely, scratching at the back of his neck. His fingers ran over the notches in his spine, feeling the distinct rises under his thin pale skin. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, his mind filling with warm images of Bucky pressing tender kissing over every notch, kissing his way down his crooked spine.

He slid his hand away, still smiling absently as he fixed the front of the over large t-shirt he’d thrown on before bed. It had been on of his, but it wasn’t good for much other than a pajama shirt now. Even so, the shirt, which had once fit snugly around his chest and hugged close to his waist, now draped off his boney shoulders, hanging to his mid thigh over the gray sweat pants he’d worn to bed. It was a comfortable way to sleep, although, if Steve was going to wear an over large shirt, he still preferred Bucky’s. Which brought rise to one question: where had he gotten off too?

As it turned out, Steve didn’t have to search for very long. He wandered around the tower, taking a glance into the kitchen and living room first. He was heading down one of the many hallways towards the elevator when the door to the lab opened, and Bucky stepped out, messing his finger through his hair. He looked like he’s been up for a while, a kind of distant expression on his face.

Bucky’s eyes lited on Steve and he pulled to a stop, yanking the lab door closed a little too quickly. “Steve,” he started, blinking in surprise. His gaze stole tellingly back towards the lab door for a second before he focused back on Steve, his chin lifted slightly. “You’re up.”

"Yeah, it was about time…" Steve said, a confused frown tugging at his brow as he studied Bucky’s expression. "What have you been up to while I was out?"

In the span of time it took to blink, Bucky’s mood had snapped back into place, his expression settle into a casually neutral look. He seemed relaxed, and at ease. If Steve hadn’t seen him slip out of the lab with that funny expression on his face, he wouldn’t have thought anything was out of place at all. Bucky’s lips tugged into a small smirk at the question.

“Nothin’ special.” He said with a shrug. “Breakfast with Nat, short jog, then I dropped in to see if there was any new results from the lab.”

"And?" Steve pressed, but Bucky brushed the question off with a dismissive shrug.

"Nothin’ to report Captain."

Steve frown deepened, and the niggle of doubt in the pit of his stomach turned sour with a growing fear. It wasn’t like Bucky to keep things from him, and if he did, he always seemed to have Steve’s best in mind. Still, a piece of his mind could help but spin the unusual expression on his lovers face and the concealment of its reason into something dark, and frightening. The reason for the serum reversal was still unknown. How to fix it was still unknown. And what of further effects? What if his DNA were to start showing signs of changing again? What if it would happen again, only this time, much worse. Steve tried to tell himself he was over reacting, and of course he knew it was true, but it didn’t stop the weight of fear that was growing in the pit of his stomach. Things were finally okay. He’d been afraid of them turning bad again at any second. Now, this series of little things had been piling up, mounting his concern into fear.

Steve swallowed back the sour feeling in his stomach, his pounding heart making his head feel light. “I guess…no news is still good news.” Steve murmured halfheartedly, trying not to let Bucky see his growing concern. He didn’t need to worry. If something big was going on, Bucky would tell him in his own time.

"That’s one way to look at it," Bucky agreed with an easy smile that _should_ have reassured him. “C’mon,” Bucky stared casualty, gently clapping Steve shoulder and heading off down the hall, seeming almost like he was trying to lead Steve away from the lab, keep him from going in.

Steve’s hand snatched out, his boney fingers wrapping tightly around Bucky’s right wrist. “Buck-” he said shortly. His voice going weak half way through the word. He was only just coming to terms with himself, he was only now really okay with who he was, he wasn’t sure he could take another shot to his identity this soon.

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, turning to look at Steve his face immediately shadowing with concern. He faced him completely, staring down at his disquieted expression, feeling Steve’s fingers still clutch his wrist.

Steve drew in a steadying breath, turning his face up to Bucky’s and gazing at him earnestly. “Just, tell me this,” he said, not even bothering to mention that he’d already figured something was going on. Bucky already knew. He’d probably know from the second he’d made eye contact with him. Steve lifted his chin, setting his jaw, his gaze locked on Bucky’s “is it bad in there?” He pressed seriously, his lips pinched into a tight line.

Bucky blinked rapidly, suddenly reaching out the grab the side of Steve’s neck, drawing him in closer and giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Hey,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t fret about it Stevie, I told you, nothing new has come up.” Bucky insisted, “We’re still just waiting.”

Steve hesitated a moment, still unconvinced, before lowering his head, his eyes closing momentarily. “Yeah, okay…” He relented, still wishing he could have deciphered the expression on Bucky’s face.

"Hey," Bucky cut in, grabbing his chin and tipping his face up. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s warm mouth. He drew him in, stroking his cheeks reassuringly as he cupped his jaw in his hands, his breath warm against Steve’s angular face. He could feel Steve relaxing under the touch, and his absently wound his fingers through his soft blond hair. Reluctantly, Bucky broke the kiss, nuzzling Steve softly. "It’s _fine_. I promise." He insisted earnestly.

Steve, eyes still closed, nodded, his eyelashes feathering against Bucky’s cheeks. If he were completely honest with himself, he was kind of scared. This thing was inside him and he couldn’t control it, he couldn’t dig in his heels and fight it like he did with anything else that scared him. It was kind of like knowing you had a bomb inside you, and never knowing when, or even _if_ it was going to go off. Steve knew Bucky was keeping something from him, he didn’t know weather it was good or bad, but for now, he had to trust that he didn’t need to know.

Bucky pulled Steve against his side, smiling as the blond fit comfortably under his arm once more. “C’mon, he said easily, ignoring the unease in the pit of his stomach that came from hiding things from Steve. “I’m guessing you haven’t eaten yet, lets get some breakfast and hit the gym.”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Over the next few days, Steve tried to keep the aching sense of discomfort at bay, but it was hard to ignore when it sat like a weight in his stomach. There were other events and happening that didn’t help to ease that weight in the slightest. For instance, Bucky was spending a lot more time than he normally did up in the lab. Steve showed up occasionally, ideally questioning Bruce about any new findings in his condition. Bruce’s response was always, in essence, the same; there was no new data, they were still looking.

One morning, Steve had stepped into the kitchen to find Bucky and Tony bickering quietly. Tony was rolling his eyes and going on something about rushing things while Bucky leaned on the counter, talking over him. The room had gone conspicuously quite when Steve had entered. After a few seconds if awkward silence, Tony had scooped up his coffee mug and headed back in the direction of the lab.

Where it not for Bucky constant, silent assurance Steve thought he might have gone crazy. What ever this was that was going on, Bucky could tell it was weighing on Steve, but he still neglected to give him any information. Still, he paid particularly close attention to Steve in those days, pressing little unnecessary gestures of affection on him whenever he could.

Steve found Bucky pulling him in against him whenever they were sitting on the couch together, snuggling warmly in against him when they settled into their shared bed at night. He kissed Steve’s cheek on the way past him in the halls, and held his hand under the table at dinnertime. He kissed the back of his neck, and his brow and temples and lips whenever he could, as well as the backs of his knuckles and his skinny little wrists. And still the weight sat heavily in his stomach for well over two weeks.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Stevie!"

Steve started slightly, his eyes snapping open; he’d been dozing on the couch even though it was the middle of the day. His back had been particularly troublesome today and, even though he’d chased down an extra of his regular pain medication, he’d still needed to get off his feet and rest for a while. He’d curled up in he corner of one of the deep, soft couches in the living room, dozing off almost immediately.

He started awake now, blinking his bleary eyes to find himself face to face with Bucky. The taller man had leaned over the back of the couch, bending level with Steve’s sleeping face.

"C’mon punk, up and att’em. I need you."

"Tell me something I don’t know." Steve slurred sleepily, his eyes closing heavily. He didn’t want to move. It had been one of those days, and even though he could pinpoint the worst of the pain, it still felt like everything ached.

Bucky hoisted himself easily over the back of the couch, landing lightly on the cushions and slipping to the floor. He turned bending over Steve and leaning in close to the smaller man’s face. “Steve. C’mon.” He said insistently, and Steve squirmed, closing his eyes tighter.

"Buck, I’m tired," he groan. "M’back’s been acting up. I just need a little more sleep." Usually, a good nap on a soft bed (or in this case, couch) would ease the ache in his body. He just needed a little more time. But Bucky was insistent.

The dark haired man leaned in, pressing a kiss to his drowsy boyfriend’s lips. “Few minutes.” He pressed, “go with me somewhere for a few minutes, then if you still feel like sleepin’ you can crash again.”

This roused a reaction from Steve his heavy eyelids opening slowly. Something about the phrase _‘if you still feel like sleeping’_ had caught his attention. Bucky seemed to think he’d be excited. A slow smile touched the smaller man’s mouth, and he shifted up a bit, reluctantly pulling himself from the soft, warm depths of the couch. “Okay, you win.” Steve relented. “Where are we going?”

A victorious grin spread across Bucky’s features, and he reached out, helping Steve to his feet. He touched a hand softly to Steve’s chest, making sure he was stable. He had been known to pass out if he stood up too fast. Once Bucky was certain that Steve wasn’t going to black it on him, the easy grin resumed its position on his face. “Just close your eyes and follow me.” He murmured in his ear.

As Steve obediently closed his eyes, his long eyelashes feathering across his cheekbones, he felt Bucky’s hot hand closing around his own. A flutter of warmth rose in his chest at the contact and he gently squeezed Bucky’s fingers in return. After everything they’d been through to be together, Steve didn’t think he’d ever tire of holding Bucky’s hand.

Bucky smiled faintly at the expression on his lovers face; affectionate and patient, and still tinged with sleep. God he loved him. Bucky leaned over, pressing one more kiss to the arch of his brow before pulling Steve away from the couch. He lead him out of the living room, making sure not to walk him into anything as he took him through rooms and down long hallways.

The further they walked, the more the smile lingering on Steve’s lips faded. He knew Stark Tower inside and out, he knew the route they were taking. He couldn’t be 100% certain of their destination but their walk _seemed_ to be taking them towards the lab. A familiar sense of unease settled back into the pit of his stomach where it had been sitting for two weeks now. Steve tried to tell himself that Bucky was excited, that it couldn’t be bad news, but still, his stomach turned sour now every time he thought about the lab.

Bucky, unaware of Steve’s growing unease, lead him down one of the long, narrow corridors to he lab’s entrance. He leaned in, pecking Steve’s cheek softly, nuzzling his nose affectionate against the side of his face. “Okay,” he murmured, pulling back as Steve blinked his eyes open, forcing a nervous smile. Bucky felt a twig if guilt deep in the pit of his stomach. He’d wondered if Steve was still wound up about the other week. He’d done his best to reassure him, but it seemed to have weighed on Steve regardless. He hadn’t wanted to keep anything from him, particularly if that was going to cause him worry, but he’d had too. He’d wanted it to be a surprise.

Bucky reached out, opening the lab door and ushering Steve inside, feeling the reluctance in his body, feeling the way his muscles bunched under his palms. Inside the lab, everything we clean, and set aside, save for the data programs which where still unsuccessfully running models of Steve’s DNA through various chemical trials. That and one little box, which sat on the examination table, small and unassuming.

Tony turned from where he’d been hovering over one if the computer screens. “Hey, Steve, Edward Elric, just the guys I wanted to see.”

Bucky’s look of suppressed excitement shifted to annoyance for a moment as he flexed his metal fingers. The ‘one handed/armed fictional character nickname’ was a running gag that Tony maintain with stunning regularity. And he never seemed to need to recycle a name. “It’s done?” Bucky asked, rather than acknowledge the nickname.

"Sure thing," Tony responded, swiping the little case off of the examination table and chucking it in Bucky’s direction, trusting his enhanced reflexes to catch it.

For a second, Bucky’s eyes widened with alarm, and he lunged forward, snatching the case out of the air. His finger curled around it like one might catch a butterfly, arresting its motion without crushing it. He caught his breath, shooting Tony a dirty look, who responded with a casual shrug. The gears in his metal arm whirred softly as Bucky uncurled his fingers, the case lying, delicate, and undamaged in his palm.

Bucky turned to Steve, trying to recapture a little of his former enthusiasm. A small smile tugged at his lips. “I uh…I got somethin’ for you Stevie…”

Steve’s gaze dropped to the little box, trying to decipher what it was. It was simple, and plain, and made out of a lightweight metal; possibly aluminum. It had a little clip at the front to keep it from dropping open, and two little hinges along its back side. It was nothing remarkable, but the care with which Bucky cradled it in his palm suggested it was something of great importance.

"I’ve been working with Tony on these…I had hoped they would have been done earlier but, they needed a few more tune-up’s." Slowly, he extended the little case to Steve, who reached out, receiving the gift with gentle hands.

Silently, Steve studied the little box, running his fingers over the cool surface before he found his way to the small clip, clicking it open with a tiny little tug. He paused a moment, glancing up to meet Bucky’s gaze, not sure what he was going to find in the little box. He tried to tell himself not to hope for too much.

Bucky smiled faintly, granting him an encouraging nod. “Go ahead punk, we’ve been workin’ on this for weeks, I want ya to see.”

At the encouragement Steve lowered his eyes to the tiny parcel once more, feeling his unease burning away to a tentative excitement. Slowly, he lifted open the lid to the little aluminum case, holding it gently so as not to disturb its contents. Steve blinked in surprise, feeling a momentary surge of confusion.

"Contact lenses?" He asked uncertainly, not quite sure how he was supposed to react to the gift. His vision was weak, and it certainly would be nice to see a little better, but he wasn’t sure the gift justified the level of secrecy.

A wry smirk tugged at Tony’s lips and Steve could tell he was trying extremely hard not to scoff and tell him exactly why they _weren’t_ just contact lenses, as he was sure they weren’t. For once, Tony was being kind of considerate, and allowed Bucky to explain his gift.

Bucky stepped in a little closer, his heart hammering in his chest as he gaze dropped to the case in Steve’s hands. “Yes,” he started slowly. “ _Technically_ they’re contact lenses, but they’re the only ones of their kind. I told Tony what I wanted, and he helped me get them pulled together after he studied his some of how the tech in my arm works.”

Steve frowned slightly, his gaze dropping from the lenses to Bucky’s arm. He hated having it tinkered with, it reminded him too much of his time with hydra. He must have wanted whatever these were badly to let Tony play around with his prosthetic. “So, what do they do?” He pressed. He could sense Bucky was a little nervous about the gift; he was fumbling more than he ever did.

Bucky swallowed, drawing in a deep breath. They’ve got some pretty high-end tech built into them that scans what you see. Particularly…color…It’ll translate what it sees into brain waves that your mind can process, kind of like projecting color on to the black and white image that your mind already has. Your eyes aren’t _actually_ seeing the color, but your brain is processes that you are.”

As Bucky spoke Steve’s lips parted, his jaw dropping at he stared down at the case in his hands. He felt suddenly lightheaded as the magnitude of the gift he’d been given hit home. Bucky was still speaking, rambling awkwardly now about asking Tony if he wanted to know the details, but Steve’s mind had stopped processing the words. Slowly, carefully, Steve clicked the case closed, and suddenly threw his arms around Bucky’s neck.

Bucky startled, his words dying in his throat as he felt Steve’s skinny arms wrap around his neck. Suddenly Bucky relaxed, crushing Steve in a tight hug, breathing in his scent, his face pressed into the smaller man’s neck. He nuzzled in closer, one hand coming up to comb softly through Steve’s soft blond hair, feeling his breath on his neck.

"Thank you…" Steve breathed into Bucky’s neck, the case still cushioned gently in his palm as he embraced him.

Bucky hummed in his neck, a deep, rumbling sound that Steve could feel vibrating comforting through his bones. “C’mon Stevie,” he murmured. “You’re my best guy, you don’t think I’d let you go living in gray scale the rest of your life do ya?” He purred, turning his head in to kiss his cheek.

Steve pulled back suddenly, grabbing Bucky’s face and pressing a hot, deep kiss to his parted lip. After a moment of surprise, Steve felt his lover sink into the kiss, drawing his hips against his own as he turned his head, fitting the warm curve of his mouth against Steve’s.

Tony managed not to roll his eyes. He had no doubts whatsoever that he’d be taking his own time to brag, it _was_ a genius invention after all, but now wasn’t be time. Steve would thank him for the lenses, and Tony would surprise himself by admitting that it wouldn’t have been possible without getting a look a the advanced tech in Bucky’s arm. It used a lot of the same advancements that allowed Bucky’s to unconsciously translate his thoughts into movements. Of course, boasting of this breakthrough would come later. Tony allowed the two of them their moment.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Ow!" Steve hissed, leaning in towards the mirror, an agitated tear slipping down his cheek as he jabbed himself in the eye for the sixth or eighth time. He swiped the streak of moisture away, his eyes seeping from the trauma he was inflicting on them. Steve craned closer to the mirror, ignoring Bucky who was snickering in he background. The technologically advanced lens sat on the tip of his finger, not looking at all as though it could cause him all this trouble.

Again, he raised the lens to his eye, trying to hold his eyelid open with his other hand as he lifted his trembling finger closer. He felt the lens touch softly against his eye, and he pressed in, his eyelid flicking closed. He gave a soft grunt if pain pulling he lens away. “Fucking… _dammit_.” Steve hissed, his eyes burning, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. The lenses did him a fat load of good sitting in their nice little box.

Bucky watched, guiltily amused as Steve hissed strings if profanities under his breath, cursing like a sailor. It was always amusing when people found out that ‘ _crap’_ and ‘ _dang’_ weren’t the worst words in America’s golden boy’s vocabulary. Far from it; Steve had been to war, picking up language like that was unavoidable.

At another yelp of pain from Steve, Bucky caved. “Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to grab Steve’s boney shoulder. He turned the man to face him, seeing him blinking back moisture, his eyes stinging. “Let me help.”

Steve stared up at him for a moment before giving a huff of frustration, nodding his head. He was jabbing himself in the eye as it was, what difference did it make if Bucky where the one doing the jabbing?

"Hop up on the sink," Bucky suggested, and Steve complied, placing the contact back into the case so as not to damage it. Bucky watched as Steve hauled his skinny frame up onto the counter surrounding the basin of the sink, settling in against the cool tile. Bucky carefully lifted the left contact out of its case, balancing it on the tip of his index finger. He reached forward, absently brushing his fingers along the side of Steve’s face before moving to hold open his eyelids.

Steve felt a surge of nervousness, as Bucky moved the lens towards his eye. Despite his earlier apathy, it really _did_ make a difference when you weren’t in control.

Bucky felt Steve’s eyelid flutter frantically under his touch, seeing his gaze shift nervously. “Not gonna hurt you Steve…” He said softly, making sure Steve could still hear him despite his hearing impediment. “Just relax.”

Bucky’s voice was deep and soothing, and it unwound the coil of nervousness in the pit of his stomach. Steve trusted him, he trusted him completely. Slowly, Steve allowed the tension to ease from his muscles, and willed his eyelids to stop twitching under Bucky’s touch. The detailing in his metal had blended together in a blur of silver as he moved closer. Steve felt the lens touch, and then fit to the rounded surface of his eye, adhering almost effortlessly.

Steve blink rapidly before suddenly closing his eyes. He didn’t want to see until both lenses were in. He lifted his right eyelid, seeing the fond smile on Bucky’s full lips as he held the lids steady, selecting the second lens. Steve could make out soft little murmurs of encouragement as Bucky neared his right eye. Again, the odd sensation of the lens fitting over his eye prickled over his face and Steve allowed his right eye to close.

"They’re both in," Bucky said unnecessarily, his hands sliding gently over Steve’s thighs. "Take a look."

Steve sat, perched on he edge if the sink, his eyes closed. The lenses felt like nothing now. Had he not known, he would have been able to tell there was something resting on his eyes. Steve drew in a deep breath, and slowly opened his eyes.

For a moment, Bucky’s earnest face stared back at him, flat, and colorless. And then, suddenly, color began to seep back into the world. Steve blinked rapidly, his breath catching as Bucky’s face suddenly bloomed into vivid color, his stormy, gray blue eyes staring out at him expectantly.

"Do they work?" Bucky pressed, breaking Steve’s stunned silence.

Steve nodded breathlessly, reaching out to brush his own pale fingers over Bucky’s cheeks, his skin tones warm, and rich. He stared at the varying tones of brown in his lover’s hair, and the subtle red’s and pink’s in his lips. And his eyes, _oh god_ , his eyes. Bucky’s eyes, that Steve had never thought he’d see in color again, stared out at him, deep and vibrant, gray, and blue, and green.

"Bucky these are…they’re _incredible_ …" He said breathlessly. Drinking in the sight of his boyfriend in full color once more. His gorgeous pink lips spread into a teasing grin, and Bucky reached out, pulling Steve forward on the counter, wrapping his skinny thighs around his waist.

"Good." Bucky purred. "Now kiss me you little punk." Bucky slid his hand up he length of Steve’s body, cupping his palm against his neck and drawing him into a warm kiss.

Steve obliged willingly, turning his head into the kiss and savoring the warmth and the taste if Bucky’s mouth against his. But he couldn’t close he eyes. He couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of Bucky’s warm, rich skin tones, the soft flush of pink in hi, cheek, the little bit of gold that the bathroom light threw into his hair. He kissed Bucky deeply, savoring the sensation of his tongue sliding hot against his own, but more so savoring the sliver of blue under Bucky’s half closed lids, his long dark brown lashes concealing the black and blue and off-white of his eyes.

He could have stayed there forever, feeling Bucky’s warm, wet mouth against his own, feeling his gentle hands sliding over his body as he drank in his color palette. He could have stayed sitting on the hand bathroom sink for an eternity if it meant he could stay with Bucky, his legs around his waist, his arms around his neck, forever. And by the time they broke the kiss, it hardly mattered because to the both of them, it had seemed like a perfect little eternity.

 


	7. Epilogue

Steve was content. When Bucky had helped him hobble painfully to their bedroom mirror weeks ago he hadn't thought it possible. He'd slipped into a kind of hatred for his body, appearance, and health. He'd hated what he'd seen; but not now. When Steve looked in the mirror now, he saw strength, even in his slender body, because he'd been stripped of everything he'd thought he needed, and survived. He'd found he didn't need it as much as he thought.

Skinny or not, Steve was still agile, his mind retained knowledge of the fighting skills he'd had before. He couldn’t use them in the same ways, but he could build off of them. He used what he remembered in addition to what Natasha taught him to creating a new form of combat. It was a form of combat that allowed him to use his advisories strength against them; it weaponized his stature, and allowed for his disabilities as much as combat could. Maybe he couldn't be the Captain America everyone recognized, but he was still Steve Rogers, and he'd be dammed if he wasn't going to be an asset to the team.

Steve's emotional recovery stretched beyond his ability to fight. It took longer, but he grew to accept his disabilities as an influential part of who he was. As a boy, they'd shaped him, they'd made him strong, brave, and reckless, and for that he was grateful. Because of them, he'd always striven to prove himself, to make what time he had worth it. Modern medicine was a welcomed help, and because of it, even if he were still frequently sick, it was insured that he wasn't going to die. He'd never had that comfort when he was a boy. And disabled or not, Steve was still cared for, and accepted by his teammates, who, after the first few weeks, quickly realized that Steve was just as stubborn and scrappy as he'd been when he was tall. They no longer treated him like a breakable, and Steve appreciated it more than he could express.

Steve still had bad days where he was tired, or his back ached, or his lungs were acting up and he couldn't stop coughing. There where times when his self image wavered and he slid back into hating the way his ribs stuck out, and agonizing over the curve in his back. On these days, Bucky brought in food and warm drinks, locked the bedroom door, and spent all day in bed with Steve, kissing over him tenderly, every inch, as promised, and murmuring how beautiful he was until Steve blushed. But the days when that were necessary grew further apart. It was an indulgence, a treat, to spend the day in bed with Bucky, but not a necessity.

Bucky had never been happier. Something about the way Steve fit into the curve of his body stirred memories that he thought had been gone forever; warm, peaceful memories before all the pain, war, torture and heartbreak. Maybe it was something about being able to dote on him; care for Steve the way Steve had cared for him when he'd been brittle, and fragile, lashing out like a wounded animal. Though Bucky wished him to be healthy and strong, he knew he couldn't crush out that little spark of selfishness, the spark that kept him wishing that Steve could be like this forever.

Of course, Bucky loved him regardless of his size, or weight, or health. He loved him as a tiny, sickly child, and he'd loved him as a national icon. Bucky loved him now as an asthmatic adult with scoliosis, anemia, stomach ulcers, and everything else under the sun, because not matter what he looked like he was still his Steve. His Steve who spent hours quietly sketchy and painting. His Steve who grew irate in the face of injustice, who dragged him along to protest, and demanded a change in a corrupt system. Steve who bought an extra take out meal to give to the homeless woman on the corner, and who kissed Bucky sleepily when he woke up in the morning. Steve who smelled of parchment and apples, who had the softest lips, and the prettiest blue eyes. Steve who he loved more than anyone in the entire universe. _His_ Steve.

Of course, Bruce and Tony still continued running the data, tweaking the programs to allow for new possibilities. Though the programs were constantly running new scenarios, the gradually got back-burnered, the files gathering dust as the computers tirelessly ran data that they may never produce results on. And Steve couldn't honestly say that he minded.

He had his color vision back, providing he took the time to put his contacts in. He had his teammates, he had Sam. He had his childhood best friend, who'd grown to be his boyfriend, the man he loved most in the world; the man he'd take on armies for, even at 5.4. weighing 105 pounds. Steve had everything he needed, and he was happy.

 


End file.
